Mission: Aggravation
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: A senator is executed while in a compromising position with his secretary. She is now a witness in need of protection. Who is the best choice for her bodyguard? Can we say Frank Donovan??
1. A Little Introduction

**DISCLAIMER:  _UC:  Undercover _and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, yadda yadda yadda.  However, the author would like to borrow at least one cast member for a few pages!  There is absolutely NO infringement intended.  All other characters belong solely to the author.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This is my first attempt at a "UC" fanfic, so bear with me.  It won't be as good as some of the others.  You guys are GOOD!  Read and review if you please!**

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PROLOGUE—A LITTLE INTRODUCTION 

Remy Ellis had been having an affair with a prominent state senator.  It had started simply enough.  She had landed a job in the senator's local office.  Never in her young life had she been interested in politics, but she was interested in a paycheck, and her options were few.  Against the advice of her parents, she had dropped out of college her junior year.  _I need to find myself_, she had told her family.  Of course, the idea was horridly cliché, but it was true.  Education, especially four years of it, did not interest her.  As soon as she left school, she drifted from job to job.  Most of them had been in the restaurant industry.  It sounded more romantic than it actually was.  She was a waitress.  

One evening after a grueling shift, Remy dragged herself to her tiny rat's nest apartment.  Her only comfort was her computer and her writing.  She sat down at the machine [bought for her by her parents when she began college] and tried to write.  But writer's block set in, forcing her to pull away from the computer in disgust.  _Might as well surf for awhile since the 'puter is already juiced up_, she thought.  She waited for what seemed like an eon for her modem to connect.  On a whim, she checked out a website that advertised government jobs, and she found one that interested her.  It was a secretarial position in the state senator's office.  Without hesitation, she applied online.  She might be called for an interview, and she might not.  What the hell?  The worst that could happen would be receiving a rejection letter in the mail.

It had taken more than a month for Remy to receive an interview.  She borrowed a few bucks from her folks and bought a business suit.  She went to the interview and didn't exactly expect much to come out of it.  She was secure, she had a job, so she really didn't care one way or another.  Remy was a bit disappointed that she didn't meet the senator.  One of his flunkies interviewed her and forced her to go through the humiliation of a typing test.  She didn't understand why she had to prove that she could type.  Her computer was her best friend.  She went through the process anyway.  She might as well humor the idiots while she was there.

Forty minutes later, she left the office with the feeling that she had failed miserably during the interview.  It seemed as if everyone there had been staring at her, scrutinizing her.  _Why do I care, anyway_, she thought.  She tried to tell herself she didn't care, but deep down inside, she did.  Although she wouldn't admit it to herself, she wanted that job more than she had wanted any job to which she applied.  

Remy returned to her apartment and readied herself for her shift at the restaurant.  It wasn't that she minded waiting tables, but if she could just land the secretarial position, she would have it a bit easier.  At least she wouldn't be on her feet up to twelve hours a day.  _Get the idea out of your head girl.  You're never going to get that job_, her inner voice told her.  Shrugging her self-defeating conscious away, she pulled on her uniform and began putting on her makeup.

Two months passed after Remy's initial interview, and she had just about forgotten both the interview and job.  She had been told at the senator's office that it might take months to be hired at a state agency.  When she received the phone call, she had just gone on break.  When offered the position, she couldn't contain a squeal before blurting out a multitude of yes.'  

Remy's first day at work as a senatorial employee was abuzz with activity.  She had three different people showing her around, giving her the locations of office equipment, and so on.  She didn't immediately meet the senator, and again, found herself disappointed.  She was told by a couple of co-workers that Senator Anthony Wengrod split time between the local office and D.C.  He was a busy man who had little time for socializing with employees.  It didn't matter to Remy.  All she knew was that she no longer had to kill her feet on a daily basis.  

Young and idealistic, Remy fit well with the liberal atmosphere of the office.  She excelled in her job, and quickly earned the trust of her co-workers.  

After two weeks of steady employ, the executive secretary mentioned to Remy that Senator Wengrod would be in the office for the next few months to work at the local level.  Remy had never felt so nervous or excited.  She hadn't had many brushes with celebrity in her life, and the thought of meeting a state politician thrilled her.

Although a portrait of the senator hung in the office, it didn't do him justice.  Wengrod was swarthy, with dark eyes, dark hair, and a prominent Roman nose.  He definitely had Italian blood coursing through his veins.  He was gregarious and friendly, every bit the stereotypical politician.  He was no older than forty-five, but his demeanor was one of a man much younger.  He immediately introduced himself to Remy, and she was star struck.  Stunned, she didn't exactly know what to say or how to act around him.

Her awkwardness soon dissipated.  Although cordial and easygoing, the senator expected every employee to toe the line and work hard.  He kept the office staff busy on every type of PR project he could find.  He was up for reelection this year, and his opponent was trying to smear his name.  Another co-worker had told her that Wengrod was married with two children, but he had a roving eye.  There had also been rumors that Wengrod had ties to the mafia.  Of course, Remy didn't believe that.  Whenever _any _politician had Italian heritage, the mafia was always mentioned.  He pushed his staff so hard, according to the co-worker, because he didn't want his secrets revealed.               

Remy never gave the rumors a second thought.  She did her job and kept her nose clean.  On occasion, Wengrod would bring his wife and daughters to the office.  He seemed to genuinely love his family, and Remy often wondered if Wengrod's own staff was trying to jeopardize his reelection.  He appeared to be very devoted.  However, she was very wrong.

The senator asked Remy to work late one evening.  She didn't think anything about his request.  He worked a lot of late nights.  She readily agreed and assisted him with a speech he was trying to prepare.  At approximately eight that evening, Wengrod ordered food for the two of them, and Remy was surprised to note he had a wet bar right in his office.  Against her own judgment, she drank lots of wine that night and ate little food.  Both hers and Wengrod's inhibitions were lifted, and before long, they were each telling the other their life stories.

Wengrod admitted that he and the Mrs. had an 'open' relationship, and that he had been attracted to Remy right off.  Drunk, she wasn't sure what to think.  The senator was eighteen years older than her, but he had basically said he wanted her.  At that point, she knew she should have left his office and quit her job.  However, she didn't exactly do that.  She was flattered that such a powerful man would want her.  Before she could blink twice, she was in Wengrod's arms, kissing him.  Remy didn't immediately go to bed with the senator.  After their late night kiss, she distanced herself from him.  She blamed herself for the kiss, not realizing that Wengrod had just as much to do with it as she.  

Upon leaving the office one day, the good senator stopped her in the parking garage.  At first, she thought he was going to apologize for kissing her.  Once again, she was very wrong.  Stone cold sober, the senator drew her into his embrace and kissed her again.  It had been several months since Remy had had a man in her life, and Wengrod's fervent kisses alit dozens of fires inside her.  She followed him over to his limousine and he took her in the back seat.  Just like that, she went from employee to illicit lover.

Their affair was heated and highly sexual.  At the office, they maintained a professional exterior, but that went to hell when they were alone.  Of course, Wengrod was more successful at maintaining a poker-faced exterior than Remy.  She was young and inexperienced.  She easily confused sex with love.  Remy was convinced she was having the greatest love affair of her life.  The senator was simply scoring with his latest 'hot number.'  He had no intention of leaving his wife.  He loved his wife, why on earth would he leave her?  He simply liked having a little on the side.

Wengrod was a good, if not shrewd, politician.  However, he had several enemies.  He was aware that most elected officials did, but he didn't think about it.  He focused on his job at hand and his sexual appetite.  Neither he nor Remy was aware that every stolen kiss, every sexual escapade was videotaped.  It wasn't Wengrod's wife who was behind it.  It was someone a bit more sinister.  He received the first package in the mail exactly one month to the day of first having sex with Remy.

Unlike most mail that came to the office, this particular package had been hand delivered to Wengrod's door.  In fact, Remy brought it to him.  With today's paranoia about anthrax, Wengrod was tempted to call the authorities before opening it.  However, when he saw the contents of the envelope, he was glad he didn't.  Several black and white photographs fell out.  His mouth agape, he stared at each photo until he thought he might vomit.  Each one was like a punch in the teeth.  There was one of he and Remy in the parking garage, one of them at a nondescript motel, another of them at Remy's apartment, yet another of them upon the top of his desk.  He had thought they were being careful.  As he flipped through the photos, he realized he had been wrong and very, very stupid.  

Impatiently, he punched the intercom button.  "Miss Ellis, I need you to come in my office right now," he spat angrily.

Not sure why Wengrod was so upset, she stammered, "O-okay, Senator.  I'll be right there."

Remy entered his office, closing the door behind her, and stood waiting expectantly in front of him.  "Anthony," she said softly, "what's the matter?"

Callously, he threw the envelope toward her.  "What kind of game are you trying to play, Remy?"

Nervously, she sat down.  "I don't understand."  He was glaring at her hatefully.  She had never seen such ire in a man's eyes.

"Look in the fucking envelope, Remy.  _You_ tell me," he spat.

Carefully, she picked up the envelope and dug out its contents.  Her reaction to the photos was similar to his.  However, he had seen many liars in his life, and he wouldn't immediately let her off the hook.

"I-I don't understand," she repeated, clearly upset.

"What are you trying to do to me, Remy?"  He was angry, but he kept his voice low.  No one in the office suspected his affair with Remy.  Or so he thought.

Astonished, she answered, "Nothing."  She plopped down in one of his visitors' chairs and held the envelope limply in her lap.  "Do you think I'm doing this?"  It hurt immensely to know he didn't trust her.

"What the fuck am I supposed to think, Remy?  I pay your damn salary; I've been inside your fleabag apartment.  Who else would need money as badly as you?"

"I'm not behind this, Anthony," she said, strangling back tears.  "How could I do this?  Tell me.  After all, _you_ pay my salary, _you_ have seen my apartment."

Gazing at her for a moment, he realized that he might have jumped the gun.  She was right.  She didn't have the means to hire someone to do this for her.  "Somebody knows, Remy.  And this somebody wants money, a lot of it."

"So what do we do," she asked glumly.  She knew; she wasn't stupid.

"We stop seeing each other immediately."

She closed her eyes for a moment.  That was not what she wanted to hear.  She had grown attached to the senator, and couldn't see herself pulling away that easily.  However, she knew there was little choice.  His marriage and career were at stake.  Yet, she couldn't let him go and continue to see him every day at the office.

"Okay," she said with a heavy sigh.

After work, Remy went home to her empty, seedy apartment.  On any other day, she would have stayed at the office, had wicked sex with Wengrod, and then gone home to fantasize about him the rest of the night.  Not tonight.  Wengrod had left before her, and she had returned to her lonely hole in the wall.

At around ten o' clock that night, Remy took her nightly bath and readied for bed.  Before she could climb beneath the covers, a quiet knock sounded off at her door.  She went to the door and stood on tiptoe to peek into the peephole.  Her body shook with desire as she recognized Wengrod's driver.  _He had come for her_.  He cared; he really cared.  Quickly, she threw her door open.

"The senator would like to see you, Miss Ellis," the driver said.

She didn't bother getting dressed.  She followed the driver out to the limo and climbed inside.  The good senator didn't love Remy, but he loved her body, loved the way she made love to him, and he could not resist.  Perhaps the first package was only a fluke bribe.  Of course, the senator was usually wrong about the motives and persistence of his enemies.

A few more weeks passed, and Wengrod was certain that the whole bribery incident was a one-time deal.  He and Remy resumed their affair, but they keep it more low key.  Despite that fact, they were still being watched closely.  The second package arrived at Remy's apartment.  

Remy didn't notice the package at first.  Of course, it was hard to notice anything with Wengrod's hands all over her body.  He was already undressing her, doing all those nasty but delicious things to her that made her scream his name.

While the good senator catnapped, Remy crept outside her door to retrieve her mail.  She then noticed that she had received a package similar to the one Wengrod had gotten a few weeks before.  She carried it and her other mail inside.  She opened the bulky envelope first and spilled its contents out onto her small kitchen table.

She gasped in horror as she looked at the explicit photos of her and Wengrod.  These were new, had probably been taken no more than a few days ago.  There was a letter with the photos addressed to both her and Wengrod.  She couldn't show this to her lover.  If she did, he would try to end their affair again.  _I can't let this happen, I can't let him dump me again_, she thought.  She put the photos and the letter back into the envelope.  Ruthlessly, she shoved it into the garbage can, and covered it with a newspaper.  She would come to regret her actions in the days to come.

*  *  *

One leg was thrown haphazardly over his shoulder.  The other was wrapped around him.  He was thrusting inside her furiously, in a frenzy of lust.  He was focused on nothing more than satisfying his own need for release, and he would fulfill it any way possible.  She was a willing and flexible partner.  He arched his body upward as he came.  _Oh such sweet ecstasy_.  She closed her eyes tightly as his body went through the violent motions of his climax.

In their naked vulnerable state, they never knew there was an intruder in the room until it was too late.  A bullet ripped through the back of the good senator's head, splattering blood and brain all over the bed, all over Remy.  As Wengrod's body fell atop hers, she began to scream.  She saw the killer's body, but could not make out his face.  She was the next target, and she couldn't escape.  The weight of the senator's body was too much to bear.  

The gun jammed, saving her life for a moment.  The killer threw it to the floor and quickly reached for another.  Remy screamed and screamed.  She desperately fought to get the senator's body off hers.  Noises in the hallway alerted the killer to the presence of others.  The intruder turned and fled the room.  By the time help arrived, Remy was hysterical.  

The shooting of the senator was big news, of course.  However, where and how he died wasn't disclosed.  Remy was asked [not so nicely] to resign from her position.  She was brought to the police department where dozens of detectives asked her question after question.  The next few days of her life were filled with more questions asked by agents of all sorts from the FBI and Secret Service.  

Every other day, Remy received death threats.  Most of them were cruel hoaxes.  However, Remy received another photo filled package.  This threat was legitimate.  She took the package to the police.  It was clear that she was next.  Humiliated and grieving, Remy simply wanted to die, to be taken out of the picture forever.  Despite how Wengrod felt about her, she had fallen in love with him [or at least thought she had].  No matter how much time passed, she would never get the image of his shattered head out of her mind.  She had had Wengrod's blood all over her.

The detectives and FBI agents left Remy alone in a detective's office.  She had fallen into a fitful sleep on the couch.  She hadn't stayed alone much since Anthony Wengrod was murdered.  She didn't feel safe anywhere but the police department.  Federal and city officials stood together and had a brief powwow to decide what they could do with their witness.  They had no trouble recognizing the need for some type of protection.  However, it needed to be secure, intense, and static.  More or less, Remy Ellis needed a specially trained bodyguard.  One name came immediately to the surface:  Frank Donovan.            


	2. Donovan's Aggravation

CHAPTER 2—DONOVAN'S AGGRAVATION

The name stamped on the six-part file folder was 'Remy Ellis.'  Donovan had had Cody dig up every bit of information he could find concerning the murdered senator's lover.  Grimly, he sat behind the wheel of the midnight blue Suburban the FBI had provided and stared down at the file.  He had probably read the information a thousand times, trying to understand how he had managed to get snagged into this assignment other than the fact that he owed his FBI brethren a few favors.  Apparently, they had decided to call them in all at once.  Sure the team was between cases right now, but what would happen when they were not?  He didn't feel comfortable leaving his team for any length of time.  From what he was told, this assignment had the potential to stretch for months.  Of course, he was to jump that hurdle when he came to it.

Cursing and griping under his breath, he flipped open the file one more time.  A couple sheets of paper were laid out on top.  He read over his hastily scribbled notes:  _Remy Miranda Ellis, 27, college dropout.  Single.  Secretary in Senator Wengrod's office since April.  Was with senator at time of death._  Donovan frowned, retrieved his ink pen from the seat, and circled the words 'was with senator at time of death.'  He vaguely wondered if Ellis was, in fact, a witness, and not the suspect.  It mattered little that she had been cleared of the charges.  _Your job is to protect this woman, not to interrogate her_, he thought.  

Donovan's cell phone twittered beside him, and the sudden interruption startled him.  Sighing, he grabbed it and flicked it open.  "Donovan," he spat.

"Dude," a voice called.  "You're late."

He fought back a laugh.  The caller was a special agent with the FBI.  Donovan had known Ed Lomax for quite a few years.  The other man was a few years younger than Donovan, but the two had gotten acquainted during their academy training.  Everything with Lomax was 'dude' or 'man.'  It was an endearing, if not aggravating, trait.  _Ah, aggravation_, he thought, _what a theme_.  

"I know, Ed," he said.  "I was looking through the file.  Is Miss Ellis still at the police department," he asked.

"Yep," Lomax said.  "She doesn't like the idea of having this type of protection."

Donovan drew in an inward groan.  _Wonderful_, he thought.  He wasn't looking forward to meeting this woman.  "I suppose she really doesn't have a choice, now does she," he asked pointedly.

The agent blew a sharp breath through his lips, as if to say 'phew.'  "This is going to be a fun one for you, Donovan."

He lifted his eyebrow and grunted softly.  "I think you can consider my debt repaid, Ed."  

Without waiting for Lomax to respond, he hit the 'end' button and flipped the phone closed.  He tossed it haphazardly onto the seat.  Time to move.  Time to do this job and get it over with.  On some days, it simply just did not pay to get out of bed.

*  *  *

Remy stood in the detective's office staring blankly out of the window.  The last few days had been a nightmare, one from which she could not awaken.  Her life had always had a hint of drama.  But now, it seemed to be a daily thing.  Wengrod's funeral was two days ago, and she had every intention to attend.  However, that was not to be.  Neither the FBI nor the police allowed her to go.  She had had her say that was damn sure.  She spent an hour or more telling the police and the FBI what she thought about them.  Remy surprised herself, as she had never used that type of language before.  However, she didn't care.  She had loved the senator, and was hell bent to attend the services.  There was only one thing that kept her from defying the authorities:  Mrs. Wengrod.

The FBI and the local authorities had been pretty good at keeping the senator's wife and his lover separate.  Angela Wengrod wasn't stupid, nor was she blind.  She had always known about Anthony's lovers.  Yet, she had never been face to face with one of them.  And God help the slut who crossed her path.  She had come to the precinct to speak with the lead detective about the murder.  For some stupid reason, a rookie officer brought the senator's widow into the office where Remy had been waiting.  They recognized each other, and it didn't take long for Angela Wengrod to put two and two together.

With little or no provocation, the normally composed Angela Wengrod flew at Remy with her teeth exposed.  It had taken several officers to pull the hysterical woman away.  Remy hadn't even tried to defend herself.  Even though she loved the senator, she understood where the other woman was coming from.

Remy shook away the horror of it all.  Her life was a mess, and now she had to start all over.  _My life is no longer mine_, she thought.  She couldn't even pick up the pieces of her shattered existence.  Her life was in danger now, and the FBI was sending in some goon to watch her every move.  She had little patience with further complications.  She had lost her lover, her job, and her apartment all in one shot.  Her eyes caught sight of a gigantic SUV pulling into the parking lot.  _This must be the goon_.  She was not interested in the slightest.  She turned away from the window and curled up on the couch.

Donovan briefly shook Ed's hand after he entered the police department.  "It's been a long time," he said.

Lomax cackled.  "But not long enough, eh?"

He waved the comment away.  He would have liked to catch up with his old friend, but he was more interested in meeting his charge and getting on his way.  "Where is Ellis?"

"This way, man."

Silently, Donovan followed Lomax into the belly of the sprawling complex.  They passed several offices before finally stopping.  Just beyond the office, the hallway split into a huge 'Y.'  He knew that the actual jail was housed to the left.  He had almost begun to wonder if they were holding his charge in a cell.  Tentatively, Lomax knocked on the door before entering.

Remy looked up, only vaguely curious.  The FBI goon was tall and slender.  His black hair, with a scattering of gray at each temple, was short and stood up a bit from his scalp.  She was sure that if she touched his hair, it would cut her finger.  He had a smooth olive complexion, dark piercing eyes, and high cheekbones.  His lips were mismatched, the bottom fuller than the upper.  A neatly trimmed goatee framed his face, somehow making him look older, more distinguished.  His face was blank and hard edged.  His demeanor told her he was younger than what he looked, but he also seemed stiff and impersonal.  He was, she decided, a goon.

Donovan was no more impressed with his charge than she was with him.  She was of average height and build with long blonde hair and violet eyes.  Her oval face was slender and held prominent, almost Nordic, cheekbones, a sharp chin, widely set eyes, and full lips.  She sat with her arms and legs crossed, letting him know that she was not going to cooperate with him easily.  He could see what attracted the senator, but she had one terrible character flaw.  This woman was a spoiled brat, and she was going to make his life hell. 

"Miss Ellis," Lomax began, "I'd like to introduce you to Frank Donovan.  He'll be keeping tabs on you for a while."

Lomax's jovial attitude did nothing to dissuade Remy's irritation.  "Is he one of your goo-uh-agents," she asked, correcting herself before the word 'goon' slipped out.

Donovan's sharp ears picked it up right away.  _Oh yes, this is going to be so fun_, he thought sarcastically.  _I'd rather spend the weekend with Cody than deal with her for five minutes_.

"Well, let's say he sorta kinda is," Lomax said.  Not really knowing what else to say to break the ice a bit further, he burst out, "Frank, this is Remy Ellis."

Neither made a move toward greeting the other.  Lomax noticed the tension right away.  He had no idea how long Donovan could tolerate Remy Ellis.  He and the other agents had failed to mention that Miss Ellis was quite disruptive when she wanted to be.  He hoped that Donovan would still be his friend after this assignment, but he doubted that highly.  They needed to hit the road, but the agent wasn't sure if he should leave them alone right now.

"Shouldn't you take Miss Ellis to pick up her things," Lomax spat, hinting gently.

"Yes," Donovan said.  "We must be going.  Miss Ellis?"  _Don't you dare argue with me_, he thought.  He would pick her up and carry her out if he had to.  He didn't intend to prolong the ordeal.  She _would_ cooperate, easily or not, it didn't matter much to him.

Much to the two men's relief, she stood.  Donovan reached out to take her arm, but she pulled back.  "You don't have to do that," she said stiffly.  "I'm not going to run away."

Donovan glared at her.  "Very well," he said.

Lomax stayed back, stifling a grin.  Donovan, sensing his friend's amusement, turned around and fixed his glare on him.  _Oh Lord, _Lomax thought, _he's going to get even with me some day_.

*  *  *

Shirking his gallant side, Donovan didn't even attempt to open the passenger door for Remy.  He mutely went around to the drivers' side, opened the door, and climbed into the vehicle.  Remy slid inside and glanced around at the Suburban's interior.

"Big enough?"

Not sure if he heard her correctly, Donovan glanced at her.  "Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes incredulously.  "Never mind."

"I would prefer it if you put on your seatbelt," he told her as he secured his across his lap.

Remy didn't make a move toward hers.  "You would prefer I wear a seatbelt, and I'd prefer staying at home.  Neither of those is happening tonight."

He gunned the engine and put it in gear.  "Suit yourself."

It had nearly taken a crowbar to wrench Remy's address out of her.  When the two arrived at the rundown apartment building, Donovan turned to her.  "I go in first, you follow.  Understand?"

What did he think she was?  Stupid?  "Of course," she said.  "No one is here, Mr. Donovan."

"That may well be the case, Miss Ellis," he said, lightly mocking her.  "But we can't take that chance, now can we?"

She shook her head, hating this goon more and more as each second passed.  "Whatever."

Grudgingly, she allowed Donovan to take her arm and lead her inside the building.  She directed him toward the flight of stairs that would lead to her door.  He went upstairs first, and she followed behind.  Both were greeted with the same scene.  Remy's door had been kicked in, and the apartment was ransacked.  

"Oh shit," she cried.

Donovan drew his gun.  "Stand back," he demanded.

This time, she was not going to argue.  She carefully followed him inside the apartment as he ensured that the people responsible for this mess were gone.  Once he was certain the coast was clear, he called the police.

Two hours later, the police were gone.  Remy moved through her ruined belongings, wondering what the idiot had been looking for.  In tears, she gathered what clothing she could find and stuffed it into a bag.  She didn't take care about folding things or keeping them from ripping.  She went about the task as quickly as possible.

Donovan wanted to talk to Remy, but he hesitated.  She was clearly and rightfully upset.  She turned away from her packing and noticed the goon staring at her.

"What do you want," she demanded as she wiped her tears away.

She was in no shape to answer any questions.  He decided to put it on hold for a bit.  "I need to get you to a secured location immediately."

Remy said nothing.  She snapped her suitcase closed and dragged it out of the room.  Donovan was on her heels.  He took hold of her forearm and drew her back.  Knowing that she had broken some type of witness/bodyguard rule, she stopped and allowed the goon to lead her out of the apartment.

They rode in silence for more than half an hour before Donovan decided it was time to talk.  "Miss Ellis, what do you know about Senator Wengrod's past?"

She sighed sadly and crossed her arms.  She didn't want to talk about Anthony with this man.  She had had more people than she cared to think about judging her due to her involvement with the good senator.  She didn't need it from her so-called 'protector.'  She had no desire to rehash her affair.  She came close to asking the goon if he wanted to know Wengrod's favorite sexual position.    

"Not much," she said, combating her ugly thoughts.

"Did he ever talk about his dealings," he asked.

She turned in her seat and glared at him.  "Mr. Donovan, he never spoke to me about anything.  Haven't you heard?  I was his mistress, his whore.  All he did was fuck me," she spat bitterly.  "Why would he talk to _me_?"

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said gently.

_He has a soul after all_.  "Can't you just drop it?"

"I would if your life didn't depend on it, Miss Ellis," he said grimly.

She turned away from him and fixed her eyes on the window.  It was obvious she wasn't going to say another word to him.  For now, he was willing to let it go.

*  *  *

Remy sat up straight in the seat.  She hadn't realized that she'd been dozing until the SUV came to a sudden stop.  She had hoped the last several hours had only been a dream.  Of course, it wasn't.  She glanced contemptuously at the goon beside her.  He was looking at her with concern in his piercing eyes.  She wasn't aware of it, but she had been moaning and groaning in her sleep.  Donovan had felt a bit like a voyeur as he listened to her mumbling about 'Anthony.'  Remy Ellis knew more than she was letting on, and he needed to discover all her secrets to keep her alive.

Reaching across the seat, Donovan placed his hand gently on her shoulder.  "Are you all right?"

His touch surprised her, startled her.  She shrugged away from him.  "I'm fine."

Sighing, Donovan sat back in the seat and ran his hand over the side of his face in frustration.  He was going to strangle Ed Lomax.  "Miss Ellis, I know you're upset, I know that your life has hit a snare.  I have been sent to ensure that nothing happens to you.  To be brutally honest, I'm not any more pleased to be here than you.  But we must work together and try to get along.  This doesn't have to be an ordeal.  Neither of us has to like each other, but I need your cooperation."

"Can we go inside," she asked.

He gaped at her with incredulous disbelief in his eyes.  Had she not heard a word he said?  Had he just been talking to the air?  "No we cannot," he said as he bit back his anger.  "We have to come to some kind of understanding.  Otherwise, I'll lock us both in here for the night.  It's your choice."

It was Remy's turn to face him with her mouth ajar.  His deep brown eyes were fixed on her face.  His left eyebrow was lifted, challenging her.  The goon bastard was serious.  _They've sent a crazy man to be my bodyguard_.  "You arrogant piece of shit," she spat.

"Thank you," he replied as if she had bestowed upon him the ultimate compliment.  He was not going to budge.  If she wanted to act like a spoiled brat, then he would treat her like one.  

He kept his eyes locked onto her face for several minutes.  Secretly, he hoped she would relent.  He had been driving for most of the day, and he was exhausted.  He had no desire to spend the night sitting upright with this aggravating woman.  _Aggravating.  There's that word again_.  However, he was as stubborn as a bull, and he could play the game as long as she wanted.

"Okay, fine," she said.  "I'll cooperate, but don't paw around on me again."

Donovan said nothing.  He took the keys out of the ignition and exited the Suburban.  After a few moments, she followed his lead.  She watched as he opened the back doors of the vehicle and began to drag out their luggage.  He was slightly aggravated [_there it is again_] that she hadn't made one move to retrieve her bag.  

Remy stood and glanced around at her surroundings.  They were in the parking lot of a Bates Motel'esque lodge.  It was dark and desolate.  She wasn't sure if she could trust this man, and this place gave her serious bad vibes.

Donovan came up beside Remy and dropped her bag at her feet.  "Is the hotel not to your liking," he asked with the slightest hint of a grin on his lips.

"Anything is better than this damn bus," she said.

Her bravado was forced, and Donovan couldn't help but wonder if her difficult behavior was some type of defense mechanism.  He could see the concern in her eyes as she glanced nervously about.  

"Get your bag," he said.

She hadn't even noticed that he had left it for her.  She reached for it and slung the strap over her shoulder.  She fell in beside him and tried to keep up with his long-legged stride.

The outside of the hotel was like a horror movie.  However, the rooms weren't so bad.  The bed was soft enough and inviting.  Her ass ached miserably from the long ride over, and she couldn't wait to climb under the covers.  Much to her chagrin, she noticed that her room was adjoined with Donovan's.  She heard vague bumping noises coming from his room.  After a moment, the noises ceased, and she heard a soft knock on the door.

"I'm decent," she said.

Donovan opened the door just enough to stick his head through.  "If anything should happen-"

She interrupted him.  "I know, Mr. Donovan.  I assure you, I can scream for help."

Defeated for the night, he simply shook his head.  "Good night, Miss Ellis."  He closed the door, not bothering to wait for her to return the sentiment.

"Jerk," she mumbled under her breath.  How dare he treat her like a child.  

Donovan lay back in bed and stared at the ceiling.  He had encountered many difficult people in his career.  However, Remy Ellis seemed to have the power to annoy the calmest of men.  Donovan's resolve was hard to break, but damn if she hadn't cracked it a little today.  As he drifted off to sleep, he vowed again to strangle Ed. 


	3. Road Trip

CHAPTER 3—ROAD TRIP

The next morning, Remy awoke groggy and out of sorts.  For a moment, she had forgotten where she was.  When she remembered, she groaned in frustration.  Suddenly, a sob ripped out of her.  It wasn't an unusual occurrence.  It seemed that she cried every morning when she awoke, because she would have to face the reality of her situation.  She quickly put her hand over her mouth to stifle her cries.  She didn't want the goon to think something had happened to her.  When she thought of the goon, a wonderful idea popped into her head.

Remy got out of bed and crept up to the door adjoining her room with his.  She leaned against it, trying to hear if he was awake.  She didn't hear any noise, but that didn't mean he was asleep.  She noticed that the door had a lock on it.  _Hot damn_, she thought as she engaged it.  Of course, the goon was pretty strong, and it wouldn't take him long to break in.  However, she intended to be miles down the road by the time he awoke.  She dressed and packed as quickly as possible. 

Donovan jarred himself awake.  His internal clock barely allowed him to oversleep, but it normally failed him when he slept away from home.  Groaning a little, he rolled over and snagged his wristwatch off the nightstand by the bed.  It took him a moment to wake up, and another moment to think about Remy.  He glanced at the adjoining door.  Oddly, the thought of that closed door worried him.

"Goddamn it," he swore under his breath.

He jumped out of bed and went for the door.  As he expected, it was locked from the other side.  Knowing it was a useless gesture, he banged on it anyway.  As he figured, there was no answer.  He drove his shoulder into the door a few times before it gave way.  Neither Remy nor her bag was in the room.  White-hot anger licked at his body like a well-stoked fire.  He wasn't sure with whom he was angriest, himself or her.  He went back to his room to dress.  He added Remy to his list of people to strangle.

*  *  *

Remy kept looking over her shoulder for the dark Suburban.  When the goon noticed her disappearance, he was certain to come looking for her.  Once he caught her, she didn't want to think of what he would do to her.  She had to stop thinking about getting caught and instead direct her energies toward getting gone.

The town they had stopped in wasn't big.  It shouldn't have taken long to find a lone female hitchhiker.  Despite that, Donovan had yet to spot her.  If Remy's situation weren't so grave, he would simply call the police and let them drag her in.  At this point, she didn't need any attention drawn to her.

Remy saw the Suburban way before Donovan saw her.  Her only course of action was to hide.  She threw her bag down to the ground and ducked behind a park bench.  If he didn't notice her bag, he wouldn't find her.  At this point, she knew her leaving had been a stupid thing to do.  But since she had carried it out, she couldn't turn back now.  Her only option was to continue running.  Of course, she didn't know that Donovan's vision was sharp, and he was highly trained to detect objects that any other person might miss.

"Goddamn," he spat as his eyes locked onto Remy's partially hidden bag.  

He pulled the Suburban over to the curb and got out.  She had abandoned her bag close to a bunch of bushes with those funky prickly leaves.  He could never remember what those things were called, but he had had a few run-ins with them as a child.  She had to be around here somewhere.  

She watched as the goon took her bag and carried it over to the SUV.  _Shit_.  The prick had taken her things.  Without that bag, she had nothing.  She shifted uncomfortably behind the bench and lost her balance.

Donovan turned suddenly as he heard Remy's voice crying out a painful "_SHIT_."  It had come from the direction of a park bench no more than seven feet from where he stood.  Although concerned, he couldn't help but smile a little.  It served her right running away like that.  Wiping the smile off his face, he approached the tangle of bushes and peered curiously behind the park bench.  In the middle of all that green was Remy.  

Fighting desperately against his amusement, he asked, "Are you all right?"

She took his proffered hand and allowed him to pull her out from behind the bench.  He noticed several scratches on her arms, and a nasty one on her cheek.  Once on her feet, she released his hand quickly.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Good," he said.  His concern quickly became anger.  "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

She shrank away from his menacing glare.  "I don't know."

It was an answer that a child would give.  "When are you going to cut the shit and start taking this threat seriously?"

Donovan took her by the forearm and led her to the Suburban.  He guided her body inside the vehicle on the drivers' side.  He slid in beside her quickly so as not to give her another chance to escape.  He didn't immediately start the ignition.  Instead, he reached behind him to the backseat and grabbed something.  For a moment, she wondered if he was reaching for a pair of handcuffs.  Confused, she watched as he brought out a file folder of some sort.  He flipped it open and dug around in it until he found what he was looking for.

He was sure he would hate himself for what he was about to do, but he had little choice.  He dug out a medical examiner's photo of Anthony Wengrod.  Turning to Remy, he grabbed her arm and turned her body toward his.  He forced her to look at the picture.  She tried to shrink away from it, but he wouldn't allow her to look away.

"No, Remy," he said, using her first name.  "I know you don't want to see this," he said in a severe whisper, "but I think you need to.  Do you see what happened to him?  Do you?  _Answer me_." 

She shut her eyes and literally whimpered.  "Yes," she cried.  "I see it.  I was there."

"Yes, Remy, you were there, you saw what happened.  _This_ could be you.  I want you to understand that.  The next time you take a wild hair to run off, remember this image, and know that this is going to happen to you if you don't let me do my job."

"_Okay_," she cried.  "Please put it away.  I can't look at it anymore."

He let go of her and pulled back.  Donovan silently put the photo back into the file.  He glanced over at her and noticed that her eyes were still closed.  What he had done was harsh, maybe even a bit on the mean side, but he had little room to question his motives.  He wondered if she thought all this was a game.  Surely she didn't, because she _had_ been there.  She saw it firsthand.  He gunned the engine to life and pulled away from the curb.  Donovan drove them back to the hotel.  

He was concerned about the scratches she had sustained from the bushes, but the look on her face told him she didn't give a rat's ass about his worry.  He didn't thoroughly trust her, and once they returned to their rooms, he was forced to keep the door separating them open.  She didn't seem to notice or care.

"We're not staying here," he called to her from his room.

"Fuck off, I don't care," she whispered to herself, just out of earshot.  

She soothed her scratches with a wet cloth.  In the other room, she could hear Donovan getting his things together.

Donovan came to the door and watched her carefully.  She sat on the bed gently cleaning the dried blood from her injuries.  She was highly aware of his presence, and it annoyed her greatly.  For the time being, she ignored him.  The arrogant fuck would never apologize for what he had done.

"We need to leave soon.  That little stunt you pulled put us behind schedule," he said

She didn't acknowledge him right away.  Instead, she continued doctoring her arms.  "I suppose you never make mistakes, Mr. Donovan?  It was stupid, but I can't go back and erase it.  Let it go and lay off me.  If you want us to be civil to each other, you should work on your people skills.  It appears that you have none."

*  *  *

The two of them were on the road again.  Since their exchange of words earlier that day, they hadn't spoken much.  Remy eventually fell into a fitful sleep.  Donovan glanced over in her direction once he knew she was out.  With her mouth and eyes closed, she wasn't so dreadful.  He wondered what had made her build such a wall around herself.  He knew the murder of her lover had been a horribly tragic ordeal.  It was something no one should have to go through.  Did she _want_ to die?  Was that it?

_The door flew open.  The noise shook the floor and made the entire room vibrate.  Anthony's head split open like an overripe watermelon.  It even made the same wet noise.  Something moist and warm landed on her face.  At first, she thought it was a drop of blood.  How wrong she had been.  It was a chunk of Anthony's brain.  Oh, how she had screamed and screamed.  She looked up and saw the killer.  He had aimed his weapon at her.  His eyes were a bizarre shade of brown, reminiscent of chocolate._

"_No_," Remy gasped aloud.

A concerned voice called her name.  Unsure of who it was, unsure of _where_ she was, she opened her eyes and focused them on Donovan's face.  A pair of brown eyes was fixed on her, a pair of decidedly _chocolate _brown eyes.  Horrified, she shrank away from him.  Her hand reached for the door handle.  Donovan reacted and grabbed her arm.

"_Let me go_," she screamed at him.

"_Stop_," he demanded.  "You were dreaming.  It's okay."

She began slapping at him, trying desperately to loosen his grip on her arm.  "No, it's not okay.  It was _you_ in the room.  I saw _your_ eyes.  _You_!"

"Listen to me, Remy.  You were dreaming.  What you saw was only in your mind.  I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help, but only if you let me."

Remy began to calm down little by little.  He was right, of course.  The killer hadn't gotten close enough for her to even see his face, let alone the color of his eyes.  She shook her head, hoping that she could rid the images from her mind.  It was no use.  Her tears began to pour out of her eyes.  Donovan wasn't sure if she would welcome or even accept his comfort, but he couldn't allow her to sit and cry.  He drew her toward him, and was surprised that she did not resist.  She buried her face into his chest and his hand gently caressed her hair.  He said nothing to her, because no words in the English language would soothe her.

It took a long time for her tears to subside, and when they did, she pulled away from him.  It was as if she realized she despised him and had just noticed that she was in his embrace.  She had never felt like such a girl in her life.  She had clung to this arrogant goon who had rather shoot her than look at her.

She hastily wiped her tears away with the heel of her hand.  "I'm sorry."

"For what," he asked.

"I probably ruined your shirt," she said flatly.  

"Shirts can be cleaned.  It's not a big deal.  Are you all right?"

She wondered if he always spoke in such a machine gun fashion.  She didn't feel like talking to him anymore.  She nodded and kept her eyes focused on the window.  She had a story to tell, and Donovan was losing his patience.  Sighing, he put the Suburban back into gear and pulled out onto the highway.

*  *  *

They made a pit stop for food about an hour later.  Donovan had every intention of stopping at a sit down restaurant.  He had no desire to take his meal stuck inside the Suburban.  He was quickly getting sick of the vehicle, and exasperated with the company.  Remy groaned when he pulled the SUV into a parking lot of a family-type diner.  She didn't feel like moving, much less walking into some dive to have the patrons staring at her swollen eyes and runny nose.  She opted for drive through.  Donovan internally balked, but for now, he would humor her.  He still felt badly for what he had done earlier, and he wanted to make it up to her any way he could.

"We can go this route, but I refuse to eat and drive at the same time.  I have to stop," Donovan told her.

She shrugged, indicating that she didn't care what he did.  "That's fine with me."

The two of them ate in silence for a bit.  From the corner of his eye, Donovan watched Remy curiously.  He wondered what she was all about, why she was so guarded, and if she would ever stop aggravating [_there it is __again_] him.  He almost laughed when he realized that his team probably had the same thoughts floating in their heads about _him_.  He wanted to talk to her, to try to break through her shell.  It was clear she didn't trust him, but how could he earn her trust if she wouldn't talk to him?  He shook it off and resumed eating.  There was nothing worse than having a meal in a car, and he wanted to finish as soon as possible.

"Are we close to where we need to be," she asked suddenly.

_She speaks_, he thought.  "Almost.  I'd say two more hours."

"Two hours," she whined.  "Why so damn far away?"

He felt himself nearly asking: _ Why are you so annoying_?  He knew he must maintain a calm exterior.  But it was hard.  She didn't want his help, but he was obligated by duty and ethics to provide it.  

"It would be easier for this person to find you if we'd moved you down the block," he said sarcastically.

"Jerk," she spat under her breath.

He was aware she didn't intend for him to hear that, but he did.  "Miss Ellis, I thought we were going to work on our communication?"

She finished off her cheeseburger and balled up the paper it had come in.  She fixed her eyes on his face.  He was gazing at her intensely, and she wondered momentarily if he could see through to her soul.  "My life is ruined, you're holding me hostage, and you expect me to be happy about it?"

_Here we go again_, he groaned to himself.  He didn't have much time to respond to her.  She reached for the door handle.  Thinking quickly, and knocking over a few things in the process, he grabbed her arm.  He reached around to the back of his belt and grabbed something that was out of her line of vision.  In horror, she gaped at Donovan as he slapped a handcuff on her wrist.  She tried to jerk her arm up and out of his grasp, but he was too strong for her.  He slapped the other cuff on his wrist.  Satisfied for the time being, he glared at her, literally daring her to make a move.  

"What the hell are you doing," she demanded indignantly.  "Where did you get those things?"

"I never leave home without them, Remy," he said.  "You obviously didn't take my first warning seriously, did you?  If you want to be treated like a child, I can arrange that."

The thought of being physically connected to the goon was upsetting, but also…interesting.  _Ugh, don't even go there_.  "You goon bastard," she spat, "let me out of this cuff at once."

"Nope," he said smugly.  "We're going to come to an understanding, however grudgingly it is made.  Do I make myself clear?"

Remy couldn't tear her eyes off his face.  There were three things she thought of doing:  slapping, spitting, and clawing.  It would be a shame to mar his face, but she would do it if necessary.  "I'm not an idiot," she spat.

He smiled a little, and she wasn't sure if he was amused or disgusted.  "That still remains to be seen, Miss Ellis."

Another human being had never so openly insulted her.  She was not accustomed to that at all.  Of course, it had yet to dawn on her that she had done her own share of name-calling where Frank Donovan was concerned.  She could not say a word to him.  

He took hold of the wrist cuffed to his, and he jerked her body forward.  He locked his eyes onto hers.  "You don't trust me, Remy, and that's fine, because I don't trust you, either.  If I did, I wouldn't have had to break out the handcuffs.  Wallow all you want, but don't take it out on me.  I have a job to do, and I'll do it, but it's going to be a lot easier if you stop acting like the spoiled brat that you are, and start giving a damn.  _Let me help you_.  You may act as if you want to die, but I know you don't."

His face was almost right in hers, it was close enough that she could feel his warm breath and smell the hint of his cologne.  He was there, in just the right position for her to spit in his face if she so desired.  Remy hesitated.

"How would you like it?  Easy or hard," he asked pointedly.

She swallowed a huge lump in her throat.  Her heart hammered crazily inside her chest.  He had asked a loaded question.  Considering the circumstances, it was insulting.  She knew he didn't mean it that way, but her self-esteem was so low that every word he said was a cut.  Yet, she couldn't follow through with any attack against him.  It wasn't right.  Despite her initial feelings about Donovan, he _was_ trying to help. 

"It all depends," she said evenly, "on whichever choice gets me out of these cuffs and away from you."

His face drew even closer to hers, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her.  The thought of the goon kissing her was one not altogether unpleasant.  However, she had gotten herself into all kinds of trouble for allowing smooth, handsome men to kiss her.  She almost felt disappointed when he didn't.  

"Very well," he said, his lips only mere inches from hers.  

Once the words were out of his mouth, he drew away from her, but he didn't release the cuff.  Although it would be awkward driving with one arm, he revved the SUV into life and pointed it toward an exit for the freeway.  He intended to keep her cuffed to him until he felt comfortable enough to release her.  She would have to earn his trust.  

Damned if he didn't nearly kiss her.  _Donovan, what are you thinking?_         


	4. An Interesting Development

CHAPTER 4—AN INTERESTING DEVELOPMENT

A cell phone rang in a quiet room.  A large hand reached over for it, not only to answer it, but also to silence it as well.  "Yes," a deep, somehow soothing voice said.  "What is it?"  There was a brief pause as the man listened to what his caller was telling him.  "What do you mean she's gone?  I don't want to hear any excuses.  You fucking find her, and when you fucking do, you'd better get the fucking package, and then you'd better fucking kill her."

The man disconnected the call and leaned back in bed.  He was still upset that the senator's whore had not been shot to bits at the same time.  He didn't like leaving witnesses behind, because he made it a point never to get caught doing anything.  Downfalls and prison time were meant for other people, his flunkies, not him.  He hadn't wanted to give the order to take out the senator, but Wengrod hadn't wanted to play ball anymore.  And when his friends no longer wanted to play, they were taken off the team permanently.

Of course, there was an interesting complication to consider.  The whore was with Frank Donovan.  He knew Donovan, knew of his expertise, and his stubbornness.  It would be a difficult feat to get one of his people near the girl.  He wouldn't doubt that Donovan had literally cuffed himself to her.  Of course, he wasn't averse to taking Donovan out, either.  Yet, it would be a crying shame.  Whatever the case, Remy Ellis needed to be found and taken out.  He wasn't about to risk his freedom.

*  *  *

By the time Donovan and Remy made it to the hideout, it was dark and pouring down rain.  Only after their arrival did he release her from the handcuffs.  Both of them darted outside, grabbed their bags, and ran for the door.  Donovan fumbled around with his keys until he managed to unlock the door.  Once inside, he flicked on the light switch by the door, but nothing happened.

"Shit," he grumbled, "the storm must have knocked the power off."

"Wonderful.  I suppose that means no heat?  At least there's a fireplace."

He glanced at her and noticed that she had wrapped her arms about her body.  Both of them were soaked to the bone.  "Don't move," he told her.

Donovan picked his way around the darkened room.  The isolated cabin was an established FBI safe house for temporary protection of witnesses.  It was small, with only three rooms:  a kitchen, living room, and bathroom.  A hallway separated the living area and bathroom.  The living area was sparsely furnished with one chair, a small couch, and a daybed in the very corner of the room.  He had stayed at the cabin a few times before, and thought he had the layout of the place memorized.  Of course, it had been some time since his last visit, but he hoped that nothing had changed.  He found the small bathroom easily enough, but there were no towels.  He turned and went in search of the linen closet.  In the process, he bumped his shin into an end table that hadn't been there before.

"Fuck," he spat as pain began to spread up his leg.

"Are you okay," Remy called from the living room.

He rubbed his hurt shin slowly.  "I'm fine," he said stiffly.  There was nothing worse for him than banging up either his shin or his elbow.  

Although he was tempted to smash the end table to splinters, he resisted.  He was freezing and needed to find a couple of towels.  He found the linen closet a few seconds later, but not without further injury.  He twisted his ankle after tangling his foot into a rug near the closet.  _Maybe I __don't__ know the layout after all_, he thought as he braced himself against the wall.  He didn't need a broken ankle to go with his developing pneumonia.  Donovan was relieved when he found dozens of towels.  They smelled a bit musty, but would do.  With two towels in hand, he followed the same path back to the living room, ensuring that he dodged both the rug and end table.

Before he could step back into the living room, he stopped dead in his tracks.  Remy had taken off her soaked clothing.  She stood in the middle of the room with only her bra and panties covering her.  He knew he should have stepped back and away, but he didn't.  Some evil little part of his brain kept his feet rooted to the floor.  Why hadn't she told him to stay out of the room?  Had she wanted him to see her?  Quickly, before she noticed him spying on her, he moved back several steps and nearly tripped over the damn end table again.  

Donovan cleared his throat, exaggerating the noise more than was necessary.  "I found some towels," he announced.

"It's about time.  I think there are icicles on my ass," she griped.

_And I almost saw them_, he thought wickedly.  _Goddamn, get a grip_.  "Are you dressed?"

_What a bizarre question_, she thought as she shrugged into her robe.  How had he known she was undressing?  Had he seen her?  Had he been looking?  She didn't feel as offended as she should have been.  

"Of course," she snapped.  "Why would I be standing naked in this ice cold room?"

He shook his head and reentered the living room.  Thankfully enough, she had covered herself with a terry cloth robe.  Mutely, he offered her a towel.  She took it without a word and began to dry her hair.  Donovan took his towel and walked over to another corner of the room.  

When Remy got her hair as dry as she could, she briefly glanced over at the goon.  He was still soaked, and the towel wouldn't be enough.  She was concerned about him.  The feeling was odd and unwelcome.  Her eyes locked onto him, and she found herself staring at him, gazing at the way his wet clothing clung to his lean, taut body.  She bit her lower lip and couldn't quite tear her eyes away.  He was handsome in a hard assed, chiseled sort of way.  She loved his voice and his soft unidentifiable accent.  She wouldn't have any trouble listening to him speak all day.

He threw the towel casually over his shoulder.  "I'm going to change," he said before leaving her again.

Remy sighed heavily.  She wouldn't have minded if he had changed in front of her.  It was now her turn to get a grip.  What was she thinking?  She simply couldn't get swept away in a man's good looks and sex.  That was what had gotten her involved with the senator and in her current mess.  She couldn't deny that she found the goon attractive, but she didn't want to end up in another empty affair.  Her nasty demeanor had kept her safe thus far, and she hoped it would continue to do.  However, another thought entered her mind.  How long would she have to stay with Donovan?  Surely someone else would take over?  

When Donovan returned, he was amused to note that Remy was trying to start a fire.  She had managed to find wood, kindling, and matches, but she couldn't get it going.  Every few seconds, she would light a match and throw it onto the kindling.  It would catch for a minute and then die out.  Luckily for them, though, he found an extra blanket two shelves down from the towels.

"Damn it," she said.  "This is impossible."

"Where did you find the wood," he asked as he approached.

Her eyes settled on his long legs and traveled up his tall frame until they settled on his.  He had donned a pair of thick woolen slacks and a dark turtleneck sweater.  "Outside."  Before he could speak, she held up her hand.  "Don't say it, Mr. Donovan, I know it's wet.  I thought I would try."

Amused, he kneeled down beside her.  "Wet wood and dry matches aren't compatible, you know."

She glanced at him.  His brown eyes were sparkling.  She felt a nasty comment coming to surface, but she was really too exhausted for it.  "No duh."

He unfolded the blanket and held it out toward her.  "Do you mind?"

"No," she said, "go ahead."

He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.  She grasped the edges and secured it about her body.

"Aren't you cold," she asked.

He shook his head.  "I'm fine."

He was lying, of course.  It was dark in the cabin, but she could clearly see him shivering a little and hear the catch in his breath as he spoke.  Men.  All of them were stubbornly macho.  She had two choices.  She could either offer half the blanket to him or allow him to suffer.  Of course, she preferred the latter, but the other side of her won out.

She opened the blanket and fixed her eyes on his stubborn face.  "Come here.  There's no need in you sitting there freezing too death.  I don't bite."

Donovan was tempted to take her up on her offer, but he hesitated for a moment.  Was it a good idea to get so close to his charge?  _Come on, you idiot.  You're freezing too death and she's offering you half a blanket, __not__ her body_.  His practical side winning out for the moment, he slid closer to her and grabbed the blanket.  He felt awkward, uncomfortable even, but at least he wasn't freezing his ass off anymore.  Her body was warm and soft, very inviting.  He was careful to keep his hands away.  As close as she was, it would be easy to draw her into his arms.  

_What am I thinking_?  This woman, his charge, had watched her lover die a gruesome death, and he sat beside her thinking unnatural thoughts.  Getting under the blanket with her had been a bad idea, a very bad one indeed.  Quickly, almost too quickly, he moved away and wrapped the blanket back around her.  He stood and walked over to the chair behind her.  He sat down and crossed his long legs, hoping she couldn't see him shiver.

"What's wrong," she asked looking over her shoulder at him. 

He wished she wouldn't look at him.  Her violet eyes seemed hurt, and he couldn't stand to see the pain in them.  "Nothing," he said.  "This type of weather makes me restless."  _As do other things_.

She turned her head away and stared blankly at the dead fireplace.  Perhaps she had been too forward.  She wasn't stupid.  Remy knew she didn't want to get herself embroiled in another quickie affair, but it felt nice having a warm body beside her again, even if he was a goon [a decidedly _sexy _goon].

"I think I owe you an apology," he said suddenly.

Surprised, she turned to look at him.  He had leaned forward in the chair and propped his chin onto his clasped hands.  She wasn't sure what he was apologizing for.  A lot had happened in the few days she had been traveling with him.  "For what?"  Honestly, her behavior had been so horrid that he really didn't owe her anything.

"The photo," he said gently.

"It _was_ a bit much," she said.

"I want you to understand why I did that," he began.

She held up her hand to silence him.  "Please, Mr. Donovan.  I understand.  And I'm not saying that to be ugly or mean toward you.  I'm serious.  I know I'm in over my head, but I didn't have anything to do with Anthony's death, and I have no idea why he was murdered.  I don't know what those people were looking for in my apartment.  All I know is that I was some senator's idea of a good time, and now I'm a target for some reason known only to Anthony's killer."  

"You owe me no explanation, Miss Ellis.  I wasn't sent to interrogate you."

His voice amazed her.  It had the ability to be harsh enough to cut a deep wound.  But it was also velvety smooth and comforting.  "I think I'm the one who should be apologizing, Mr. Donovan.  My behavior has been reprehensible."

"It's okay," he said.  "You're just protecting yourself."

_Wow,_ she thought.  He knew his psychology.  "It's still no excuse."

Curiously, he watched as she brought herself up to her feet.  She approached him and held out her hand.  "I think we need to start over.  My name is Remy Ellis.  Please call me Remy.  I'm an all around world class spoiled brat."

He gazed up at her solemnly.  He thought she might be trying to play some sort of game.  He still couldn't quite trust her, regardless of her explanations or apologies.  There would be little sleep for him tonight.  He would have to watch her closely for the next few days to ensure that she didn't run off again.  Out here in the woods, it would be difficult to find her.  Without missing a beat, he took her proffered hand and shook it briefly.  He didn't want to hold onto it any longer than he had to.  Her touch was electric, but disturbing.  

"And I'm Frank," he said, "your local neighborhood goon bastard."

She stepped away from him, intent to move back to her spot in front of the cold fireplace, but Donovan did something she wasn't expecting.  He stood, as if he was leaving the room.  He took hold of her forearm ever so gently and brought her around to face him.  She waited eagerly, expectantly, knowing for certain that he was going to kiss her this time.  She didn't need the complication, but she wanted those lips, even if it was only for a few moments.  He took her hand in his and led her to the daybed.  He guided her body onto it and laid her down.  He leaned his body partially over hers.  Instead of a hungry kiss, she received another surprise altogether.  Moving quickly, he whipped out his handcuffs again.  He slapped one cuff over her wrist and snapped the other onto the bed's railing.

She had never felt so humiliated or angry in her life.  The goon bastard had deliberately misled her, had used her vulnerability against her.  "_I can't believe you_," she spat viciously.

He stood back a safe distance from her free arm and legs.  "Tonight was a good start, Remy, but you must earn my trust.  Not only that, but I'm not a machine.  I'm exhausted, and I need to sleep.  You've run once, and there's a chance you'll run again.  Think of those cuffs as insurance."

Donovan walked away from the angry woman and went back over to the easy chair.  He again had been tempted to kiss her, but he shook away the urge.  She _was_ vulnerable, and it would be quite easy to take advantage of that.  It wasn't in him to use her, or _anyone_, like that.  Yet, he didn't doubt that Remy might have been trying to purposely seduce him to knock him off guard.  Whatever the case, he had to keep his mind sharp and focused.  He couldn't allow his attraction for her to distract him from his purpose.  He leaned back in the chair, but he didn't immediately go to sleep.  _Perhaps I am a goon bastard_, he thought with a mischievous grin.  He had earned a lot of nicknames from various women in his life, but 'goon bastard' ranked right up there as one of the most creative, if not fitting.

Later, Donovan was still awake.  For a couple of hours after cuffing Remy to the daybed, she had cursed him and his entire bloodline.  After awhile, she settled down and grew silent.  He was certain she was asleep.  Donovan stood and crept up to the bed.  He leaned over her and peered down at her calm face.  As he expected, Remy's eyes were closed, and her body still.  Before he had a chance to straighten his body, Remy caught Donovan's jaw with a right hook.  The blow was clumsy and misdirected, shocking him more than injuring him.  He gaped at her in disbelief as he rubbed his jaw.

She glared at him; her eyes literally glowed with anger.  "Consider us even," she spat through clenched teeth.

*  *  *

"Boss, I know where Ellis is," an excited voice said.

The man calmly stroked his beard and fixed his dark eyes onto a painting hanging on the wall.  This was his favorite piece, and he often gazed at it when stressed.  He held the cell phone up to his ear and felt a smile touching his full lips.  "That's good news.  Why are you talking to me instead of going after her?"

"Sir," the other man said nervously.

"Stop slobbering on the phone, you dumb fuck.  Get your ass in gear and get the girl."


	5. Remy's Aggravation

CHAPTER 5—REMY'S AGGRAVATION

It had been a long and difficult week.  Both Remy and Donovan had cabin fever, and were equally exasperated with each other.  He had continued to cuff Remy to the daybed nightly.  He had learned his lesson, though, and didn't get close enough for her to hit him again.  It was a humiliating experience, but Remy had begun to be thankful the goon saw to it that she was locked up at night.  She didn't trust herself anymore.  If Donovan's back was turned, she knew she would run.  She had had enough of the lock down.  Not only that, but he was _near_ her entirely too much.  She kept thinking that she didn't want him, but she was simply lying to herself.  When he wasn't looking at her, her eyes would follow him around the room.  When he touched her, her flesh would break out into scores of goose bumps.  She had begun to wonder what he was like in bed, if his lips were as demanding as his personality, if he tasted as good as he looked.  Her thoughts depressed her immensely.  She had begun to believe she _was_ a whore ready to fuck anything with a hard-on.  She was certain she disgusted Donovan, and even if she didn't, he would simply use her as a plaything.  She wouldn't stoop so low again.

Donovan watched Remy closely.  A few days before, she had seen him scribbling a few notes here and there on a legal pad.  She asked if he had any extras.  Of course, he did, he was always prepared.  She took the pad he offered her and curled up on the daybed.  Curiously, he watched as she wrote furiously for several hours.  She continued to do so the entire week.  Although not many people knew it, Donovan was nosy, and not just 'on the job nosy.'  He wanted to read what she was writing.  He wanted to believe it was due to the case and her circumstances.  She could have been writing to someone on the outside, perhaps the party responsible for Senator Wengrod's death.  Yet, he didn't quite believe that.  He simply had a need to know.  He had another need brewing as well, a more _primal_ need.  She still aggravated him beyond all sanity, but he had also grown frustrated.  Since the first night they were together, his need to touch her, to kiss her, was consuming his entire being.  He didn't act on any of his impulses, no matter how tempting, because he felt that she had a deep seeded mistrust of men.  How would she feel if he tried to divide and conquer?  Hadn't she been taken advantage of enough?  _Would I be taking advantage_, he wondered.  He had the greatest urge to just…react.  He could almost feel her body in his arms, could almost taste her kiss.  _I've got to get out of here_, he thought.  The cabin fever was turning him into some sex-crazed maniac.

The satellite phone rang sharply.  He hated the ugly yellow monster more than the big-assed Suburban, but he had little choice.  His regular cell phone wouldn't work out in the boonies.  He grabbed it and stabbed the 'send' button before the noise split his head wide open.  "Donovan."

"Hey there, dude," Lomax's voice cracked over the line.  "How goes it?"

Donovan glanced at Remy.  She was still sitting on the bed, writing almost obsessively.  He moved away from the easy chair and slipped into the hallway.  "It goes slowly," he said sarcastically.

"I know it sucks, man.  This type of duty really bites the big one, boy-o.  I have some good news."

He closed his eyes, hoping to hear that the killer had been found.  "Great.  I need good news."

The other man laughed heartily.  "Is she still giving you a hard time?"

_Hard, what a word_, he thought crazily.  He kept his eyes shut tightly and purposely bumped his head against the wall.  "Stop dancing around, Ed.  What do you have for me?"

"We're working on giving you relief in a couple of weeks."

Lomax's comments forced him to open his eyes.  "Relief?  I don't understand.  Why drag me into this at all if you intended to replace me?"

"Well, boy-o," Lomax said jovially, "we were sure the person behind this is one of your old FBI enemies, one that wouldn't come after you.  That's why I suggested you for this assignment.  Turns out I'm probably wrong.  I think the killer just had a grudge against the senator, probably some crazy constituent."

"What you're saying doesn't make sense, Edward," he spat.

"I know, Franklin," he mocked.  "This isn't something I need to go into on a cell phone call.  I'm going to come up in a few days and brief you a bit more thoroughly."

Donovan disconnected the call.  An enemy?  He had hundreds of them.  This case was becoming more difficult and confusing by the minute.  He walked back into the living area and noticed that Remy had yet to look up from the legal pad.  Bored out of his mind, he went back to the easy chair and sat down.  Within minutes, he was asleep.

Remy looked up when she heard a soft snore issuing from Donovan's prone body.  Her eyes identified the dreaded handcuffs lying innocently atop an end table.  He hadn't used them on her in a week, so he wasn't very careful about where he put them.  Score one for the brat, too bad for the goon.  It was time for a little payback.

*  *  *

A cramp in his back roused Donovan from a sound sleep.  He tried to raise his arm, but was met with resistance.  He stared down at his wrist incredulously and saw that Remy had cuffed him to a heavy wood and glass end table.  In fact, it was the same end table of which he had banged his shin.  The sneaky little bitch had slid the table over to his dangling hand and made him its prisoner.

"_REMY_," he roared.  No response.  Stupid, stupid.  What the hell was she thinking?

_I wanted to take a walk, and by God I'm taking one, **without** the fucking goon_, she thought.  The cabin was isolated enough where not even Grizzly Adams could find them.  She didn't understand why Donovan was so paranoid.  Of course, she didn't want to think about what he was going to do to her once he got out of the cuffs.  It was a mean trick, but he deserved it.  It was worth losing whatever trust she had gained.  She needed a moment alone, to sort out her thoughts, to get away from her overwhelming lust.  With Frank Donovan underfoot 24/7, privacy was not an option.

Seething with anger, Donovan stepped out onto the porch.  Remy hadn't gotten very far.  He could just make out the red splotches of her sweater.  He was momentarily relieved.  At least she hadn't taken the Suburban, which meant she didn't want to go far.  He was mad enough to scream out at her, but he hesitated.  Perhaps calmly following her would work best.  The woman had gotten into his head somehow.  He didn't like making mistakes; she had screwed him up, and caused him to act recklessly.

Remy was in her own little world and didn't hear Donovan creeping behind her.  He was as lithe and as silent as a lion stalking his prey.  When he was within arms reach of her, he grabbed her forearm.  His sudden move caught her completely off guard, and she screamed out in terror.  She turned on her assailant, ready to fight for her life, until her eyes met Donovan's.  She had hoped to be back inside before he released himself, but he apparently had had other ideas.  He had been angry with her before, but not like this.  His dark brown eyes were black.  His lips were pressed into a tight grim line, and his nostrils flared crazily as he breathed deeply to fight his rage.

"Do you see how easily it was for me to catch you," he spat, each word dripped venom.  "You never even knew I was there.  What if it hadn't been me, Remy?  What would you have done then?  I wouldn't have been able to stop it because I was fucking cuffed to that table."

She tried to break free of his grasp, but he was too strong.  "I wanted to be alone.  How can I with you breathing down my neck every minute of the day?"

"_Do you not get it yet_," he roared as he glared down at her.  "It's been a week, and you still can't see it, can you?  Until the FBI finds the person who's after you, your life is no longer yours.  It's mine, Remy, and mine alone.  If you see it any other way, you're wrong, and you need to learn once and for all."

"Let…me…go," she demanded through clenched teeth.

_Oh God_, he moaned inwardly.  His anger was more concern driven.  When he noticed that she was gone, he felt panicked.  It wasn't the panic of losing a witness.  It was more like losing a person dear to him.  All the tension, aggravation, and anger netted together and snagged him inescapably.  He drew her into his arms and finally gave her the kiss she had been craving for days.  She accepted it, taking note that his lips were as scrumptious as she had thought.  His tongue demanded access to the inside of her mouth, and she willingly obliged.  She tasted sweeter than he had imagined, and the sensation of her tongue twirling, sliding, and entwining with his was mind bending.  A week's worth of pent up desire exploded almost violently during the kiss, and it was a long time before either dared to come up for air.

Remy was the first.  She was dazed a little, her lips swollen a bit from their hungry kiss.  She was still in Donovan's arms, her body crushed against him, _molded_ to him.  He wanted to make love to her, it was very clear in his eyes, and she wanted him just as much.  Yet, both were hesitant to take the next step for different reasons.  Reluctantly, she backed away from him, and he allowed it.  He wanted to fumble through an apology, but the words wouldn't come out.  He wasn't a bit sorry for kissing her, he was only sorry for not doing it sooner.  She turned toward the cabin, away from him, and slowly walked back.  He mutely followed behind her.  He watched as she approached the side of the Suburban, only a couple of steps away from the porch.  Something broke loose inside him, and his internal restraint was no more.

His long legs drove him forward, allowing him to catch up to her before she could go inside.  He grabbed her again, but did so gently.  He pressed her body against the Suburban's front flank and took her lips again.  She was helpless to stop him.  In fact, she was fairly helpless altogether.  It seemed as if her body had forgotten how to move.  Her arms flailed limply in the air before settling across the SUV for support.  However, the SUV wasn't exactly what she wanted to throw her arms around.  Soon enough, her mushy brain told her arms where they needed to be, and she plunged her hands into his hair.  It looked sharp enough to cut her and make her bleed, but it was actually soft, thick, and silky.

In some type of uncontrollable frenzy, Donovan's mouth moved from hers and found her neck.  His teeth nipped madly at her delicate flesh as his lips slid further down the slope of her throat.  She threw her head back and was surprised when she didn't bang it against the hood of the Suburban.  If she had, it wouldn't have mattered; she wouldn't have felt it at all.  She could only feel lust and a moist, fevered heat between her thighs.  She wrapped a leg around him to draw him even closer to her.  She felt the evidence of his need, and a strangled moan came from the depths of her throat.  She strained against him, her leg pushing him closer and closer.  

A bit more urgently than intended, he cupped her left breast through her sweater, squeezing it, as if he expected it to pop out of its own free will.  The sweater was thick, double cable knit, but it didn't matter.  Her nipple stood to attention, and he could feel the hardened little nub straining desperately against the layers of her clothing.  God help him, he wanted to take her right then and there, with his bare ass hanging straight out in nature.

"Inside," she whispered urgently.  "We need to go inside."   

"No," he groaned as his hands crudely shoved up her skirt, "no time."

His hands were like heat conductors, and they burned her thighs, leaving a trail of fire that sank down to her very core.  He was rough and primitive, exactly how she had imagined, exactly how she wanted him.  With a whisper quick motion of Donovan's hands, her panties were discarded.  It was almost like a lusty magician's trick.  Her loins literally ached, and she didn't have any more patience than Donovan.  Her hands moved down to his belt, and he groaned impatiently.  It was taking too long.  Everything was taking too long.  Her hands were inside his slacks now, and her touch sent his pulse up a dozen octaves.  He was literally throbbing in her hand.

When he finally entered her, a noise escaped him:  _ssssss_.  

As he pushed himself all the way inside her, he let out a low, throaty moan.  She was warm, silky, and tight.  _Heavenly_, he thought, _utterly heavenly.  _One of his arms came up around her buttocks as she slung her other leg around him.  His other hand reached out to grip the Suburban, and he hoped the sweat breaking out all over him didn't loosen his hold on either her or the SUV.  Her hands gripped each of his arms tightly.  She couldn't help throwing her head back as he moved within her, slowly and deeply at first, but then hard and fast as his release began to build inside him.  It wouldn't be long now, he knew.  Her back was almost flat against the hood of the Suburban as Donovan drove into her increasingly harder and faster.

"Uh, uh, oh God," she moaned.

She raised her body upward, shuddering uncontrollably, as her climax unrolled and bloomed like the petals of a flower.  Her arms went around him, to hold him tightly.  The fluttering sensations grew stronger, deeper, and burst forth time and time again.  Droplets of sweat beaded on Donovan's forehead, and a slow trickle began to run down his face.  Her lips eagerly drank it in.

"Oh, let go," she whispered, her lips close to his ear.

He moaned a little, her soft voice was pushing him over the edge.  "Mmmm, no, uh huh," he groaned.

"Yes, Frank, _please_," she whimpered, scissoring her legs around him, helping him seek the release he so desperately wanted, but denied at the same time.

"No," he whispered, "not yet." 

Her teeth nipped his earlobe.  "Yes, Frank, _now_," she commanded.

Remy's tongue teased his ear, running up and down it.  It was enough to finally make him give in to his climax.  His hips froze and he let out a very low groan as his body shuddered against hers.  He didn't immediately let go of her, he couldn't.  He breathed heavily through his parted lips.  The feel of his breath puffing out against her neck, and the sound he made while doing it made her tingle.  He hadn't disappointed her at all.

*  *  *

From about ten feet north of Remy and Donovan, a fellow stood with a wide-angle lens.  He snapped several pictures as he watched the couple having at each other.  It was an interesting development.  He wondered if the boss would still want the girl dead after he saw the pictures.  Perhaps the photos would draw Donovan to the boss, allowing another score to be settled, and thereby killing two birds with one stone.  He had seen the girl in the woods earlier, and he had been tempted to take her out right that second.  Of course, Donovan just _had_ to rush in and save the day.  He watched curiously as the two argued.  Before he knew it, they were kissing, and then, they were getting down and dirty.  The boss would be surprised to see the pics.  Donovan was normally composed and strictly by-the-book.  Did he think no one would come looking for the girl?  Was he that stupid?  Was he that blinded by lust?  He wondered if Donovan would allow the members of his UC team to act like he just did.  Perhaps he would send a packet to them as well.  They would see how much of a hypocrite their boss actually was, and he found that thought deliciously funny.

*  *  *

Exhausted now, Donovan released his hold on Remy's body.  Carefully, slowly, she slid her legs down until she was steady on her feet.  Almost awkwardly, they looked at each other.  The thought that he had just made love to this annoying woman was hard to reconcile.  He wasn't sure why he had let himself go like that.  What had he risked?  What had he compromised?  They were outside, in the clear, and a bullet could have entered her brain as easily as he had entered her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly as he backed away from her.  Hastily, he zipped up his pants and secured his belt around his waist.

"Frank, what-"

He couldn't look at her.  He had done to her exactly what he vowed not to, and she didn't understand.  Despite her past experience with the senator, she really _was_ innocent and completely naïve.

He shook his head and continued to back away from her.  "Remy, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

Wondering what she had done, she hastily readjusted her clothing, suddenly embarrassed.  She watched him enter the cabin.  It appeared he had forgotten he was sent to protect her.  After a moment, she followed his lead.  He wasn't in the living room.  She could hear him in the hallway, speaking quietly to someone on the phone.  She could only make out the words:  "get me out of here."         


	6. Donovan's Mistake

CHAPTER 6—DONOVAN'S MISTAKE

_Damn, damn, damn_, Donovan cursed as he disconnected the satellite call.  Her scent was all over him, her touch still burned his flesh, and the taste of her kiss still lingered on his lips.  _Get your shit together, Donovan_.  He couldn't leave until Lomax came with his replacement.  That meant he would be forced to stay with her at least two more days.  He didn't have the inner strength.  He had let go before, and would do so again without much provocation.  Donovan knew she was inside, he could hear her moving around, but she dared not enter where he stood _hiding_ like the chickenshit that he was.  He couldn't face her, not after what he had done.  He had to take a shower, it was the only way he could physically remove her from him.  

"Frank?"

He jerked his head up as he heard Remy's voice calling his name.  He had just stepped out of the ancient shower, barely getting a towel wrapped around his waist.  She had gotten herself together nicely.  She, too, had changed clothes, and fixed her makeup.  She had brushed all her soft blonde hair over one shoulder.

"Do you mind," he asked quietly as he held onto the towel for dear life.

"I would think modesty isn't exactly necessary considering the circumstances," she said.

The hurt rolled off her words in waves.  She wanted something from him that he wasn't prepared to give.  He watched as she slowly approached him.  Her hand reached out to touch his arm, but he lifted it up quickly, defensively.  

"That's not such a great idea, Remy," he said.

She stepped back from him, withdrawing her hand.  "Frank?  What have I done?  I don't understand.  Are you married?  Involved?"

He shook his head absently.  "No, I'm not married or involved or anything.  It's not you."

"Then _what_," she spat.  "_What_?  Tell me."

"What happened shouldn't have happened."

"Then _why_," she began, her voice an indignant protest.

"I don't know," he said.  "Leave me."

His five-word sentence spoke volumes.  She understood completely [or at least thought she did].  Plaything.  Whore.  Mistress.  Quick shot.  She had heard it all, and what she saw in Donovan's eyes confirmed it.  Oh, how cold he was, how blunt.  It _was_ she, no matter what he said.  Sexy, handsome men were the death of her.  Without another word, without another glance, she turned away and left him.

Silence became the name of the game for the next few hours.  Donovan couldn't avoid the living room for long.  It was the only furnished room in the small cabin.  He took house in the easy chair while Remy sought refuge on the daybed.  He found his eyes drifting to her again and again.  It was difficult for him to look away.  She was scribbling away at the legal pad like a woman possessed.  What he wouldn't give if he could erase the last few hours.  He would have definitely kept his wits about him.  _Or would he_?  He wasn't sure of much anymore.  He wanted to go back home and face his regular run-of-the mill demons.  Anything was better than this.  Donovan could have told her why he insisted on turning her away, but would she understand?  _No one_ understood.  

He was so incredibly exhausted.  He wanted to lean back and rest his eyes for a moment. Before he did that, he looked around him, and spied the handcuffs.  He reached over and took hold of them.  He didn't want a repeat episode of what happened earlier.  _Or did he_?  Groaning inwardly, he leaned back and closed his eyes.  Within moments, he was asleep.

Ed and Frank were the Mutt and Jeff of the FBI.  They ended up as partners in every activity known to man.  Ed was like the kid brother Frank never had.  Both had been recruited and courted at the same time, and their bond grew strong very quickly.  They were the top two rookies in the squadron, but they didn't shrug away from healthy competition amongst themselves.  Whoever ended up besting the other, each man took his defeat in stride and moved on.  

_Frank's brother-bond grew even stronger when Ed introduced him to his sister.  They had all met as a group in a local bar.  Back then, Frank was a bit looser, less guarded.  He could let go and have fun with the best of them.  He was immediately attracted to Cloe Lomax.  She was a bright, bubbly girl with honey blonde hair and the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.  The color was hard to describe, but he compared it to the soft purple of amethyst.  "Violet," Cloe had teased.  "You know, like Liz Taylor."  She had the ability to make him laugh, and he didn't want the night to end._

_Although Ed was his friend, Frank didn't feel comfortable asking him for Cloe's contact information.  However, he pushed himself to do it.  He couldn't get her out of his mind.  Ed surprised Frank when he gave over the information without too much fuss.  He had figured his friend would like Cloe.  She had confided in her big brother that she wanted to see the handsome recruit with the dark eyes._

_Most unlike himself, Frank nervously gazed down at Cloe's phone number.  He couldn't remember exactly how long he had stared at it before actually picking up the phone.  **What's the big deal**, he asked himself.  He would call, and she'd either agree to see him or not.  It wasn't a life or death type of situation.  Steeling himself and getting some balls about him, he finally picked up the phone and called Cloe Lomax.  It took all of fifteen seconds for her to accept a dinner invitation.  Her acceptance made him happy and thrilled him to the bone.  This was a pretty big deal for Frank.  He hadn't ever felt this way about a girl.  Sure, he had dated and/or slept with his fair share of women, but something about Cloe was special._

_One date became two, two became four, and four grew into a full-blown love affair.  Frank was consumed by Cloe, and couldn't stand to be away from her for any length of time.  They eventually moved in together and planned to marry.  Ed had joked that he would finally be Frank's brother and asked him if **he** had a sister.  Yes, Frank had been captured by love hook, line, and sinker.  However, his happiness was short-lived._

_In what Frank considered to be the irony of his life, his fiancé had witnessed a murder during a robbery.  She had been ensured that she would be protected.  Of course, Cloe was engaged to an up and coming FBI agent, and it simply meant she had added security.  Frank would have easily died for Cloe, no questions asked.  As it turned out, he almost did.  Just having made love, Frank and Cloe were in bed, both of them dozing on and off.  Unbeknownst to either of them, the killer had been stalking Cloe for weeks, and he eventually learned her routine, her habits, her bedtime, etc.  He knew Cloe had a lover, but he wasn't aware that the man was an agent in training.  It mattered little.  The witness had to die, and tonight she would._

_Frank heard the intruder before Cloe even opened one eye.  Reacting, he flew out of the bed and flung himself onto the man's body.  Cloe awoke and screamed out Frank's name.  Her scream drew the attention of the intruder, and he fired his weapon.  The bullet should have missed Cloe altogether, but somehow, someway, fate had stepped in and helped angle the gun at just the right position.  The bullet lodged into Cloe's abdomen, knocking her back.  Frank tried desperately to wrench the gun away from the other man, but he wound up getting shot in the process.  Despite his own wound, despite the blood pouring from it, he continued to fight.  The gun went off again, and Frank was certain he had been hit once more.  However, he felt no pain.  He watched as the other man's eyes widened before growing glassy.  He let the man fall as he turned his attention toward Cloe.  Her hand was clutching at her abdomen, and Frank fell down to his knees before her.  _

_"Please, Cloe, let me see," he begged._

_"I'm afraid, Frank, it doesn't hurt, it feels cold," she said with a moan._

_"No, Cloe, it's okay.  Let me see."_

_She finally allowed him to pull her hand away.  The bullet hole was no bigger than a dime.  There was little blood flowing out of the wound, but he was almost certain she had been injured internally.  Without another thought, he called for an ambulance.  Frank rode with her and held tightly onto her hand.  She was lucid and seemed to be fine.  Frank had also been shot, but he wasn't worried about himself, and he tried to fight the paramedics who insisted on treating him.  He was more concerned about Cloe._

_Frank relented to having his shoulder wound treated as Cloe was rushed into surgery.  He didn't give himself time to rest; he made his way to the hospital waiting room, refusing to leave for one second.  Ed joined him an hour later.  Together, the two men waited for what seemed like two lifetimes.  Frank took it as a bad sign.  Something had gone horribly wrong, and when he demanded an update, he was turned away.  Eventually, Frank couldn't sit any longer.  He began pacing the length of the waiting room obsessively, as if he were trying to rub a hole in the rug._

_Cloe died during surgery.  At that time, the surgeons discovered that she had been right about six weeks pregnant.  They weren't even sure if she had known.  Her injuries were too significant, she had lost too much blood, and there was very little that could be done to save her life.  They knew Cloe's fiancé and brother were awaiting news._

_Frank stopped pacing immediately as he noticed a doctor approaching.  The man had a grim look on his face, and it didn't take a medical degree to understand that the news was not good.  He barely heard the words 'significant blood loss.'  His mind was a billion miles away when the doctor mentioned that they had 'done everything they could.'  He batted aside the tired medical clichés and felt an emptiness creeping into his very soul.  When the doctor gently told Frank about the baby, he lost it.  It was the only words he had listened to, the only words that sank into his grief-stricken heart.  He vaguely wondered if she had known and hadn't told him yet.  It didn't matter anymore.  Both of them were dead.  A white-hot light stabbed his eye, penetrating his brain, and for a moment, he thought he was having a stroke.  He passed out cold._

_Hours later when he awoke, he found himself in an ER bed with a cloth folded over his forehead.  The reality of what happened began to eat away at him.  He couldn't run or hide.  He had to face facts.  He failed to protect his fiancé and his unborn child.  He had made one of the greatest mistakes of his life, and it would haunt him forever.  Frank felt awkward around Ed after that, but Ed had harbored no hard feelings for Frank.  They continued to remain close, despite Cloe's death, but their easy brotherhood had been marred.  Frank and Ed had continued to work together throughout his tenure with the FBI, but he couldn't bring himself to visit his friend at home.  He couldn't stand looking at the pictures of Cloe that hung on Ed's walls.  _

_In his sleeping subconscious, all Donovan could see was violet eyes and blonde hair.  Remy.  She brought back the pain of Cloe all over again.  It wasn't that Remy even looked like Cloe, but those eyes, those haunting eyes.  They were burned into his mind, heart, and subconscious.  He didn't recognize it while he was awake, but asleep, when images of Cloe haunted him, he saw it.  His love for Cloe had blinded him.  If he hadn't been caught off guard, if they hadn't been making love, he might have been able to protect her like he should have.  It was a ridiculous thought, but it was also one that would never leave him.  He had taken Remy so wildly and found that he was ready to get lost again.  Yet, he couldn't shake the thought that Remy could have been murdered while he was satisfying his lust.  How could he have lived with himself if she had died?  He would not allow another slip; he would not allow another woman in his charge to die._

Remy's attention was drawn away from her writing.  Donovan was moaning softly in his sleep.  She couldn't sit still any longer.  Carefully, she approached his prone body and leaned over him.  There were tears falling from his closed eyelids.  Her hand ached to reach out and wipe them away.  He was a lonely, tortured soul, one that was untouchable.  She was tempted to take off in the Suburban and leave him be.  But she couldn't.

He exhaled a low sob, crying out a name:  "_Cloe_."

She drew away from him and went back to the daybed.  She didn't want to awaken him.  She didn't want to see his cold expression.  It would end up breaking her heart.

*  *  *

Toward dawn, Donovan awakened.  His eyes felt sticky and clouded.  He had dreamt about the woman whose name could not escape his lips.  Apparently, he had been sobbing in his sleep again.  He glanced over at Remy.  She was curled up on the daybed and appeared to be asleep.  He wondered vaguely if she had heard him in the night.  He shook the dream out of his head and stood.  He stretched his tall frame and grimaced as his spine crackled.  He couldn't wait to get into his own bed.

Donovan's eyes caught sight of Remy's legal pad.  She had placed it on the floor near her head.  His curiosity had not ended.  Taking an incredible chance, he approached the legal pad and picked it up.  She had filled over half the pages in the pad.  Not proud of himself in the least, he took the pad and carried it outside.  Like a schoolboy with his comic books after bedtime, he retrieved a penlight from his pocket and clicked it on.

_This cabin is like a prison, _Remy wrote.  _I feel as if the goon who seems to be all arms and legs is holding me hostage.  Yet, I can't stop looking at him when he's near.  He has calmness about him, as if he knows exactly what he wants and where he wants to go.  _Donovan flipped the page over.  _I wonder if he notices me watching him.  I can't stand it that I am attracted to the shithead.  Why do I always want unobtainable men?  Men, especially sexy men like the goon, tend to use me as a doormat.  I suppose it's my lot in life.  _Donovan skipped even more pages.  He supposed he had been looking for something specific, something written just a few hours ago.  It didn't take long.  _He made love to me, it was the most intense moment of my life_, she had written.  Here, her handwriting had gotten shaky, as if she were upset.  _He turned me away as if I had hurt him.  I don't see why he reacted the way he did.  I wanted him.  I **think **he wanted me.  I wanted him more than I dare to write.  I don't know what I'm going to do.  I think he's leaving soon, and I can't bear the thought.  I can't believe how careless I was, how quickly I fell into his arms.  Sex is sex, nothing more, nothing less.  I don't know what to do.  Frank Donovan, how I loathe you, how I want you.  God help me, I'm following the same path as I followed with Anthony.  HELP ME!_  

"What are you doing," a voice asked from behind.

His hand was caught in the cookie jar.  The red fire of embarrassment, which always began at his ears, quickly spread to his neck, and finally settled on his face.  How would we explain his way out of this one?

Viciously, she snatched the legal pad out of his hands.  "Is nothing sacred to you?  You had no right."

His nosiness had gotten him into more trouble than he cared to admit.  "Remy, I-"  His voice died out for a moment.  "I'm sorry."  He instantly knew his words would do no good.

"Fuck you and your apology," she spat.  "I don't need it; I don't want it."  She ripped the pages out of the legal pad and tore them into fourths.  She threw them carelessly into the air and they fluttered all about like large pieces of confetti.  "Right now, those words mean about as much as the fuck we had, and apparently _that_ meant _nothing_."  She turned from him abruptly and walked back inside.  

There was no damage control.  He could have tried, but it would have been no use.  He went back inside and noticed that Remy had gotten back into bed.  _Two more days_, he thought.  _How the hell am I supposed to make it another two days_?


	7. Cheeky Complications

CHAPTER 7—CHEEKY COMPLICATIONS

The man who had taken Anthony Wengrod's life went by the auspicious nickname of Cheeky.  He couldn't remember how it had been branded on him, but he was fond of it all the same.  He often thought of himself as a 'cheeky little monkey.'  He had had trouble with people taking him seriously due to that nickname, but the instant they saw his semi-automatic handgun, the snickering ended.  He was a brutal killer and had taken out people of all ages, from all walks of life.  If he was given an order, he normally carried it out despite the circumstances.  However, Frank Donovan was a complication he or his boss hadn't exactly expected.  Donovan was an old enemy of the boss, and he hoped that he would not have him shot once he admitted that he had not taken out the whore.

"Did you do her," he boss asked as he thoughtfully stroked his closely shaven beard.

"Not exactly, Boss," Cheeky said.  The boss' face had begun to turn red, and if he didn't speak up soon, his life would be no more.  "Hold up a sec, Boss.  There's something I want to show you."

He watched as Cheeky carefully laid out a large manila envelope on his desk.  "What the fuck is this, you weak ass prick," he demanded.

"Just look, Boss, you won't be disappointed."

The boss was already making plans to have Cheeky eliminated for his failure.  However, he might as well humor the idiot during his last few days on earth.  He tore open the envelope and one lone photo slid out to greet him.  Immediately, a smile broke out on his face, and thoughts of having his exterminator taken out drifted out of his mind.  _It's almost like my birthday_, he thought.  The photo showed Donovan in a very compromised position with the senator's whore.  How very…interesting.  He slid the photo back into its envelope and hid it beneath his desk's blotter.  

He glanced at his new best friend.  "You know what to do, Cheeky."

Cheeky cackled insanely.  "Oh yeah, I know what to do all right, and this is going to be fun."

*  *  *

The last two days Donovan and Remy were together were the two most torturously agonizing days of their lives.  Neither of them could eat or sleep, neither of them spoke to the other unless it was absolutely necessary.  Donovan had even taken to sleeping in the hallway, making a thin pallet of two blankets on the floor.  It did nothing to improve his backaches, made them worse, in fact, but he couldn't stay in the same room with Remy any longer.  He couldn't stand the wounded glint in her eyes each time she looked his way.  It had taken him less than two weeks to ruin their lives.  He couldn't deny he still wanted her.  Their encounter had implanted inside him, and it was all he could think about.  He longed to see her, to see _all_ of her.  

Remy, on the other hand, was hurt.  Donovan had taken her and then dropped her like a cheap slut.  Not only that, but he had stolen her legal pad, had read her thoughts, knew of her torment, and her desire for him.  Yet, he did nothing with the information, only allowed it to stagnate inside him.  She couldn't lie and say she would be happy to see him go, but she also couldn't continue to be near him on a daily basis without losing her mind.  When his replacement came, she knew she would likely never see Donovan again.  That thought comforted her a bit, but disturbed her even more.

Just hours before Ed Lomax was slated to arrive at the cabin, Donovan was busily packing.  Remy was still asleep.  While talking with Lomax earlier, Donovan learned that little progress had been made on Wengrod's case.  The FBI was chalking it up to a random act committed by some lunatic.  This information had been the only thing that released Donovan from the assignment.  Otherwise, he would have been stuck.  Remy's protection would continue how ever long it took, but from experience, Donovan knew that she could be released at any time.  He wasn't sure how he felt about that.  Donovan was concerned about her safety.  Regardless of what happened, of how Remy felt about him now, he didn't want anything to happen to her.  He was halfway tempted to back out of leaving.  He had a bad feeling way deep down inside his gut, and he knew he shouldn't ignore it, but he shoved it aside anyway.  He needed to get his mind off Remy Ellis and back onto his task at hand.  The sooner he was out of her life, the better it would be for everyone involved.

Movement from the daybed broke his concentration.  Remy was waking up.  He had hoped to be finished packing before she saw him.  For the first time in a couple of days, she gazed steadily at him, curiously watching his frenzied packing session.  For a moment, she hated him, truly hated him.  He was breaking his neck trying to get away from her.  He wasn't looking at her, he couldn't.  He could feel her eyes on him, watching him, and he was quite tempted to look her way.  He didn't.  All it would take for him to lose his composure would be one gentle look from her beautiful eyes.

"You're leaving today?"

_Give me the strength **not** to look at her._  It was the first calm words she had spoken to him since she ripped her journal to pieces.  "Yes.  I have a job to do elsewhere."

She said nothing more to him.  Instead, she brought herself to her feet and made her way past him, toward the bathroom.  A few moments later, he heard the shower running.  With the last item packed, Donovan carried his bags out to the Suburban.  _A few more hours, Donovan, and you're out of here_.  He didn't feel comfortable leaving her in her current state.  She didn't trust him any longer.  It was obvious.  He didn't trust himself.

Donovan stayed outside for a long time.  The fresh air was doing wonders with his torment.  However, reality awaited, and he couldn't avoid it.  Slowly, he climbed the porch steps and went inside.  As he saw Remy, his jaw dropped.  She stood in the middle of the room dressed only in a towel.  She was digging in her bag for a fresh change of clothing.  Her wet hair, and the water glistening on her skin, sent a heated thrill through his soul.  She stopped what she was doing and planted her hands stubbornly on her hips.  With her eyes, she dared him to come toward her.  Losing his composure again [_God help me_], he took her dare.  He approached her at a slow and steady pace.  She stood her ground and held her chin up defiantly.  Her arrogant, Nordic cheekbones challenged him, mocked him.  Donovan took her by the forearms and roughly pulled her body against his.  He mashed his mouth down onto hers and forced her lips apart with his tongue.  He kissed her deeply, hungrily, consuming her with his insistent mouth.  His hands groped for her towel.  He had to touch her, taste her, to make mad love to her.  He was met with resistance.  Remy clutched desperately at the towel as Donovan tried to pry her fingers loose.  She planted her free hand into the middle of his chest and pushed with all her might.  He wasn't an idiot.  She was plainly trying to fight him off.  He immediately broke the kiss and let her go.

"Who do you think you are?  Do you think that I'm that easy?  _Do you_?  Do you want another good ol' fuck before you leave, Frank," she asked icily.  "It's not happening.  Go to hell."  

She took an armload of clothes and made her way to the bathroom.  He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.  He thought about what he wanted to do next.  He knew he should have let it go, but he wasn't thinking clearly.  He began to stalk toward the bathroom until a noise from the front of the cabin caught his attention.  Ed had arrived, and he was early.  Five more minutes, and he would have had her.

"Dude," Lomax called cheerily.  

Donovan turned to face his friend.  Lomax immediately noticed the look on his face.  He wondered what had been happening before he arrived.  Of course, he didn't think it was anything _sexual_, but he thought they might have been fighting.  

"Frank, you okay, man?"

He shook his head absently.  "I'm fine, Ed, just ready to get out of here.  Who is staying with Miss Ellis?"

He held up a small overnight bag.  "That would be me, my friend.  Another agent will be sent out to replace me in a few days.  How is she?"

_How is she_, Donovan interjected inside his head.  What the hell was he talking about?  Lomax hadn't meant the question to have a sexual connotation, but right at that moment, Donovan couldn't perceive it as anything else.  He thoroughly had to be going utterly loony.  Lomax noticed the look on Donovan's face.  He had seen the look before, almost ten years ago with his sister.  

"She's…she's fine, Ed."  It was a lie, of course.  She was _not _fine.  He had seen to that.

"Have you been getting along any better?"

_Do you mean before I took her or after_, he wanted to ask.  He bit the words back.  "Not really," he said instead.

Donovan was about to say goodbye until Remy appeared.  She had donned a dark blue cowl neck sweater dress.  She didn't quite enter the room.  She stood in the hallway with her arms crossed.  Her gaze was fixed on Donovan's face, and he could literally feel the ire radiating off her body.  She hated him, it was clear, but she also wanted him, and that was even clearer.  Thank God it was almost over, and he wouldn't have to see her again.  He wouldn't have to hurt her further; he wouldn't have to feel like such a shit.  He could do nothing, nor could he say anything.  His leaving was the best thing that could happen to her.  In a way, he was glad Lomax had arrived early.  He didn't want to complicate the situation any more than it already was.  He felt like a shit, he felt lower than scum, but he couldn't change what happened.  He didn't _want_ to change it.

"I'll be on my way," Donovan finally said.

For a moment, he didn't move.  He waited for Remy to say something, _anything_, even if it was to tell off on him, on the way he had taken advantage of her.  She said nothing; she didn't even _attempt_ to speak.  She kept her eyes locked on him and threw dagger after dagger at him.  The old cliché of 'if a look could kill' was never more apt than it was right at that moment.

He tried to maintain a calm 'I did nothing' exterior, but it was no good.  "Goodbye," he said, his dark eyes fixed on Remy's.

"Good riddance," she spat.

Donovan didn't react at all.  He deserved it, thoroughly deserved it.  He turned, walked to the door, and let himself out.  The instant he was out the door, Remy went into the bathroom and locked herself inside, spinning a lie to the new goon that she was sick.  In a way, she was.  _Fuck that fucking fucker_, she thought.  _I don't care, I don't care, I don't fucking care._  She did though, and no amount of lying to herself would convince her otherwise.

*  *  *

Five thin packages arrived in the mail addressed to Donovan, Alex, Jake, Monica, and yes, even Cody.  They arrived before anyone had even come into the office to look at them.  Soon enough, someone would come in and see them.

*  *  *

Donovan didn't return to work for two days.  He hadn't been sleeping well since he came home.  He couldn't believe how much he had craved a night's sleep in his own bed, but the instant his body hit it, his eyes refused to stay closed.  He wasn't sure if anyone knew he was coming back so soon, and he didn't care.  As he entered the darkened office, he noticed that several manila envelopes had been slid under the door.  He retrieved them and took the one addressed to him.  He left the rest scattered about for his colleagues.  He wasn't immediately interested in the contents of the envelope, and unfortunately for him, it was his mistake.  He climbed the stairs to the sanctuary of his office and closed the door behind him.  He needed some time alone to get his shit together.  The events of the past couple of weeks weighed heavily on his mind.  Since he left Remy Ellis, not a minute went by that she wasn't on his mind.  Carelessly, he tossed the envelope aside and did something he rarely did.  He propped his feet upon his desk and leaned back in his chair.  He was away from her, away from her haunting eyes, and he should have been satisfied with that, but he wasn't.  He didn't know what would satisfy him other than having her again.

Downstairs, Alex and Monica were the next to arrive.  They had no clear idea that Donovan was already there, but they noticed the envelopes immediately.

"What in the world is this," Alex said as she handed Monica's to her.

Monica grinned a little.  "Porno mags?"

"Ha, Monica, you wish."  Without hesitation, she tore open the envelope.  When her eyes settled on the photo, she had to look twice to be sure she had seen what she thought she saw.  "Holy shit."

"What?  _What_," Monica yelled excitedly as she ran over to see what had caused the commotion.

Monica stood looking over Alex's shoulder.  She held a black and white photo showing a man entangled with a blonde woman.  The images had obviously been shot with a wide-angle lens, but the identity of the man was clear.  Their fearless leader had literally been caught with his pants down.  The photo had a date on it.  It corresponded with Donovan's absence on his 'special assignment.'

"There are three more like these addressed to me, Jake, and Cody," Monica said.  "Do you think-"

She didn't have time to complete her thought.  Alex scooped up the envelopes and ruthlessly tore them open.  Three more copies of the same photo slid out.  "When is he due back?"

"I'm not sure, but he needs to be alerted."

Alex couldn't tear her eyes away from the photo.  "What the hell was he _doing_?"

"I think the picture makes that kind of obvious, Alex," Monica said dryly.  "We need to find out where he is.  Something is not right."

Meanwhile, Donovan was in his own world.  He thought he had heard noise from downstairs, but he wasn't sure.  At the moment, he didn't care.  His mind had been drifting for the last hour.  Without warning, his door burst open.  Startled by the intrusion, his feet dropped to the floor and he turned toward the door.  Surprised, Alex and Monica simply gaped at him.  They hadn't expected to see him.

"What are you doing," he asked, his tone of voice demanding.

"Oh shit," Alex gasped.  "We came in to try to find contact information, and you're _here_."  Her sharp eyes spied an envelope thrown haphazardly on his desk.  "I think you need to open your mail, Boss.  _Now_."

Had they flipped?  What was the big deal?  The mail?  Why was the mail so damn important to them?  His mind was too clouded by confusion for him to put two and two together.  Without questioning their insistence, he reached across his desk and retrieved the envelope.  He tore it open and the photo slid soundlessly out.  He fixed his dark eyes on it, and immediately, he felt ill.  As he feared, the killer had been there the whole time.  He couldn't see what might happen to his career, he couldn't imagine the trouble he would likely be in if this photo made its way to his superiors.  All he could think about was Remy.  The killer _knew_, had probably been watching Remy walk in the woods.  Panicked now, he knew he had to get back to her.  This individual was no crazed constituent.  

Seemingly forgetting that Alex and Monica were in the room, he grabbed the phone and dialed the number to the satellite phone.  It rang and rang.  Donovan slammed the phone down with such force that the two women jumped a couple of inches off the floor.  He was wild eyed and appeared insane.  They had never seen him lose his cool like this.

"I have to go back," he said absently, seemingly realizing that Alex and Monica were still in the room.

He gave no explanation.  He said nothing further about the photo or the woman.  He secured his shoulder holster and ran out in a panicked huff.  Monica and Alex looked at each other, a question was telepathically transmitted between them:  _What the hell was **that** all about_?

*  *  *

Donovan pressed his foot to the accelerator.  Every moment he waited was another moment wasted.  He had been afraid that his actions would put Remy in harm's way, and he had been right.  She was in more danger than anyone even realized.  He hoped he could make it back in time to warn her, to finally protect her, as he should have days previously.  He grabbed his cell phone and dialed the satellite number again.  This time, it was busy.  _What the fuck are they doing?  Ordering pizza_?  He disconnected the call and dialed the number again.  He was met with constant burring rings.

"Why won't you answer," he spat softly, stress evident in his voice.

If anything happened to her, it would be his fault, and he couldn't live with the guilt of allowing another young woman to die.  The burden was too great, the potential loss too tremendous.  


	8. Exorcising the Demons

CHAPTER 8—EXORCISING THE DEMONS

Donovan obsessively called the satellite number during the entire trip.  The line was either busy or was never picked up.  He wasn't sure who was with Remy, but as soon as he arrived at the cabin, he was going to beat the living hell out of him for ignoring the phone.  After his last call to the satellite phone, he dialed up another number.

"Yo," Lomax said jovially.

"It's Donovan," he said.  "I'm on my way to the cabin.  I'm taking back the assignment.  Remy is in danger, and we must move her again."

"Hold up there, Hoss," he said.  "Ellis is secured with another agent.  What's got you so worried?  You seemed fine to leave a few days ago."

Donovan steeled himself and exhaled a breath.  "I was wrong, Ed.  The killer knows Remy is at the cabin."

There was a catch in Lomax's breath.  "How?  How does he know?"

He took another deep breath and exhaled it slowly.  "Call my office.  Someone there will fax you the answer to your question.  Wait by the machine.  After you receive it, call me."

Without another word, Donovan disconnected the call and pressed the accelerator.  The trip seemed endless.  It didn't take long for Lomax to return the call.

"What happened, Frank," Lomax asked.  For once, the joviality had left him.

"What does it look like," he snapped.  "What you see is what happened.  Right now, what you're looking at isn't the issue.  What's important is _who _took it.  The killer was there, stalking her the whole time.  Her location was either leaked out, or this was an inside job.  Whatever the case, I'm on my way back."

"Considering what this photo is telling me, maybe that's not such a great idea, Frank."

He sighed in frustration.  "I don't give a fuck.  She's in danger, and if I don't move her tonight, she'll die."  

He hit the 'end' button before Lomax could say another word.  He didn't want to hear anymore.

*  *  *

Remy had been trying to nap.  She hadn't slept well in several days.  She glanced over at the couch; her new FBI goon appeared to have little trouble sleeping.  He was young, just barely out of the academy, and had told her this was his first 'real' assignment.  He chattered incessantly, giving her his life history.  He was cute and sweet in an Opie Taylor kind of way, but he was no Frank Donovan.  _Ugh_, she thought.  She had to stop thinking about him.  With Donovan's absence, she had tried to begin a new journal, but she found she couldn't write.  

Giving up on sleep for the time being, she stood and stretched.  She wanted to go outside, but thought better of it.  Despite his innocent looks, Opie had a set of handcuffs as well, and the idea of being cuffed again didn't appeal to her.  _Unless I'm cuffed to Frank_, she thought wickedly.  _Oh God, I must stop.  I must put a stop to this_.  Taking a risk, she unlocked the door and stepped out.  The sun was just beginning to set, and it was chilly outside.  For once, she didn't mind.  Nothing cleared the mind more than freezing weather.  Her gaze fell yet another midnight blue Suburban.  The goon named Lomax had left the same type of vehicle for Opie.  Her mind went back to the day she and Donovan had made love, their bodies supported by the SUV.  When he kissed her the day he left, she would have let him make love to her again if he had just pursued her.  He likely would have if Lomax hadn't shown up.

In the distance, from down the road, she heard the squealing of tires.  Alarmed, she was certain the killer had finally made his way to her.  Rooted to her spot, she watched as the car swiftly approached the cabin.  It looked like a police cruiser.  She turned on her heel to run back inside to summon Opie.  The car came to a screeching halt.  Her hand landed on the doorknob as the intruder threw open his car door.

"_Remy, stop_!"

The voice.  Unmistakable.  She turned back around just as Donovan ran up the steps to the porch.  _What is he doing here_?  

He took her by the forearm.  "I don't have time to explain," he said breathlessly, "but you must get your things together.  I have to get you out of here."

She wanted to argue, wanted to slug him, but the look on his face was too serious.  She allowed him to lead her inside the cabin.  Donovan's eyes settled on the sleeping agent.  For a moment, he felt pure and utter rage coursing through his veins.  He clearly identified the ugly yellow satellite phone lying within reach of the agent.  _Why the fuck wouldn't he answer the phone_?  Not bothering to be polite, he approached the agent and shook him roughly.  

"Wha," he said groggily.  When he encountered Donovan's intimidating stance, he began to reach for his gun.

"Before you piss your pants," he said as he took hold of the man's arm.  "Look at this."  He flashed his badge at the agent.  "The name is Donovan, Frank Donovan.  I'm taking custody of this woman.  If you have any questions, call Ed Lomax if the fucking phone works."  He fixed his stony gaze on her.  Her terror had left her dumbstruck.  "Move your ass, Remy."

She did as he instructed.  Donovan was serious and this was no time to be stubborn.  She stuffed her things in the bag as quickly as she could.  He didn't give her any time to zip up the bag.  He took her by the arm and led her out of the cabin.  In less than a minute, they were inside the car zipping along the road toward the freeway.  Donovan had spoken less than fifteen words to her the entire time they had made their frenzied escape.

She had begun to cry, and she hastily wiped her tears away.  She had no idea what had happened.  "Are you going to talk to me," she asked softly.

He had been watching the road and formulating a plan at the same time.  He had yet to decide where to take her.  He didn't look at her when he said, "I received a package."

She immediately knew what he was talking about.  "_No_!"

"There were at least five copies of a photograph sent to me and my colleagues.  We were being watched the whole time, photographed the whole time.  I had no choice but to come back and protect you."

"Where are you taking me?"

He glanced at her.  Her tears fell from her eyes in a steady stream.  "I don't know."

She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob.  "I'm sorry, Frank," she spat when she could speak again.

"This isn't something you could have controlled, Remy."  He wanted to say more, wanted to comfort her, but his mind was focused on getting her to a secured location.

When Donovan pulled the car into the garage, he glanced over at Remy.  She was curled up on the car seat and appeared to be asleep.  He was risking more than he could fathom bringing her here, but he really had no choice.  There was nowhere else to take her.  This was the only place he trusted.  He reached across the seat and gently shook her.

She awoke with a start and had the greatest urge to strike out.  However, when her eyes met Donovan's, she calmed down.  "Where are we?"

"Home," he said.  "My home."

From the parking garage, he took her arm and guided her over to the elevators.  They went up a dozen floors or more to Donovan's apartment.  It was late, and there weren't many people bustling around.  Those out didn't blink an eye at the cool blonde on Donovan's arm.  He led her inside the darkened apartment and left her bag by the door.  

He pointed toward the back of the apartment.  "Take the bed, I'll sleep out here on the couch.  After you get some rest, we'll figure out what to do."

She wasn't ready to go back to sleep.  She needed to talk.  "What's going to happen to you because of that photo?"

"I don't know, but that's not what we need to focus on right now," he said.  "Go to bed, Remy."

She didn't argue with him further.  She entered Donovan's bedroom and spied his gigantic bed.  It was a shame that he slept in the huge thing all alone.  She stripped down to her underwear and pulled back the covers.  She slid beneath the sheets and was swiftly enveloped in his scent.  It was all over the bed.  It comforted her.  However, it would have been better if he were actually in the bed with her.  Remy wrapped her arms around one of the king-sized pillows and pressed her cheek into it.  She felt secure and protected in Donovan's bed, and it didn't take long for her to fall asleep.

Donovan woke up when he heard a rustling noise.  Ever alert, he propped himself on his elbow.  Through bleary eyes, he watched as Remy dug around in her bag.  He noticed she was wearing one of his shirts.  She had apparently just gotten out of the shower.  The blinds were still closed and he wasn't sure what time it was.  Remy turned back around and noticed Donovan watching her curiously.

"Sorry about the shirt," she said.  "I didn't have anything clean to put on."  
  


"It's okay," he said sedately.  He didn't mind about the shirt at all.  She looked delicious.  "Can I say something to you," he asked suddenly.

She nodded.  "Sure."  She walked over to a vacant chair and sat down.

Donovan sat up fully and ran his hand through his hair.  "I'm the one who's sorry," he began.  "I took advantage of you, and that act nearly caused your death."

Remy wasn't sure where this conversation was leading, but she found herself horrified at the thought of his guilt.  He had taken advantage of her?  Was he nuts?  She had wanted him.  She still wanted him.  She finally understood his behavior.  "No, Frank," she said.  "That's not true.  For whatever reason, it happened, and I wanted it to happen.  How can you take advantage of someone who gives of herself freely?"           

Her answer stunned him a bit.  "You were vulnerable, tender, and I-" 

She interrupted him.  "No.  It wasn't like that at all."  Remy had allowed him to fumble through his off-kilter apology, but she really couldn't listen to anymore.  She stood and left him sitting.  She had totally forgotten about her clothing.

Donovan sat without moving a muscle for a long time.  Bringing her home with him had not been a very good game plan.  Something else would have to be done; other arrangements would have to be made.  He stood up with the intention of going to the fridge and grabbing a glass of orange juice.  However, something stopped him.  He saw Remy standing in the doorway between his bedroom and the hallway leading to the kitchen.  She was watching him closely, following him with her eyes.  He noticed that she had unbuttoned the shirt, and it had fallen partially open.  _What is she trying to do to me?  _He debated what he wanted to do for five minutes or more, and like an idiot, he stared at her throughout his internal battle.

He knew he shouldn't move forward, knew he should demand that she cover herself.  She couldn't tempt him, because his resolve was hardly existent.  Neither spoke a word, it wasn't necessary.  They each wanted the other, what more could be said?  She stood awaiting him, his touch, and his lovemaking.  _What to do?  What to do?  _

Steeling himself, but never tearing his eyes away from her, he cleared his throat.  "What are you doing?"

She didn't answer him.  Instead, she approached him and snaked her arms around his neck.  "What do you think," she asked softly.  "I want you, and if I don't have you soon, I'm going to fling myself out the window of your high-rise apartment."

Like some cliché from an after school special, his eyes said 'no,' but his body said 'hell yes.'  He should have taken her arms away from his neck, should have denied her.  But there was no use.  His arms went around her waist and he jerked her body hard up against his.  This time, he didn't have to force a kiss on her.  Her eager lips were waiting expectantly.  During the kiss, his hands slid from her waist to the side swell of her breasts.  Before long, his hands were inside the opened shirt, cupping the soft, but unbelievably firm mounds of flesh.  She moaned deeply within her throat and pressed forward with her upper body.  Her nipples hardened at his slightest touch, and the little pink peaks pressed into the palms of his hands like points of steel.  Her hands slipped from his neck, down to his chest, and ventured even further until they hooked into the belt loops of his slacks.  She pulled him forward toward her as she stepped back.  

Donovan broke the kiss as her insistent hands continued to drag him forward.  She had no idea where she was going, as she didn't have eyes in the back of her head, but that didn't matter.  She had the general idea where the bedroom was, and she wanted to get him in there quickly.  Remy's back eventually hit the wall, and she gasped audibly.  It surprised her when her back slapped up against the solid wall, but it also thrilled her.  Donovan's body was slammed against hers just as suddenly, and she could feel the hardness of him pressed against her.  He kissed her again, plunging his tongue into her mouth.  Once the kiss was broken, she began to help him get undressed.  She wondered why he insisted on wearing so many layers of clothing.  It was aggravating, and after he was as naked as the day he was born, she wondered why he hid his gorgeous body.

He wanted to make love to her right there, up against the wall, but she wasn't going for that.  She insisted he take her to his bed.  After their frenzied episode against the Suburban, her backside had ached for days.  There was no way in hell she wanted to end up with splinters and paint chips stuck up her ass.  Of course, Donovan wanted to argue, but he lost that battle.  Remy pushed him backward and led him to his bedroom.  Without much in the way of hesitation, he took her down to his bed.  Donovan took his time about touching, tasting, and caressing every inch of her body.  She wanted to do her own exploring, but he wouldn't allow it.  He took the upper hand, wanting to give, but not take.  The last time, he had only taken, and he wasn't about to make the same mistake again.  He made love to her gently, and Remy finally saw the two sides of Frank Donovan, the hard, and the gentle.

*  *  *

The Boss had been informed that Frank Donovan had rolled in and took custody of the whore.  He was almost positive where they were, and he was even more certain that he knew what they were doing.  Donovan had always had a weakness for blondes, especially blondes with very unique eyes like the whore's.  He had ordered Cheeky to send copies of the photos to Donovan's UC team, and he knew that by now, they had likely received them.  He considered mailing a few to his superiors, but he didn't want Donovan fired.  He wanted him dead.  Perhaps he would have both the whore and her bodyguard eliminated at the same time.  _Payback, now that's what I do best_, he thought.

*  *  *

Remy was asleep.  Her body was sprawled belly down across the bed and so very magnificently nude.  Donovan was tempted to reach and allow his hand to drift down the slope of her back, but he hesitated.  She needed to sleep.  He had made love to her three times already, and she was utterly exhausted.  Before long, he would have to wake her.  He stared up at the ceiling and wondered where he was taking her with this.  He was involved now, embroiled, and there was a lot at stake.  He also realized the unquestionable need to find a safer hideout for her.  If the killer had found the cabin, he would find her here, would probably _seek_ her here, especially considering the photo.  _How am I going to get out of this_, he thought.  _Do I even **want** out_?

From the living room, he could hear his cell phone ringing.  Quickly, he jumped out of bed and ran toward his discarded jacket.  He snapped open the phone on the third ring.  "Donovan," he said.

"Frank, what are you doing," Lomax's voice asked.  "Smithy said you ran in, threatened him, and took the girl."

Donovan sighed.  "I didn't threaten anyone.  I stepped in and did my job, Ed."

"The hell you say," he spat.  "You scared that little rookie.  He's going to face disciplinary charges for allowing you to kidnap our witness."

He had never heard such deadpan anger in Lomax's voice before.  This was so unlike him.  "Ed, she needed to be taken from there.  You saw the damn photo, you _know_."

"Frank?  Are you fucking her, or was that Suburban bop a one time quickie?"

"That's_ not _for you to know," he spat viciously.

"I see," Lomax said, reading the answer in his voice immediately.  "She's playing you, Frank.  She made a pass at Smithy _and_ me.  She's bad news.  I wouldn't doubt that she didn't have that photo taken to blackmail you.  We're pretty sure that's the way it happened with the senator.  Let her go, Frank, we're about ready to drop the protection."

"You _cannot_ do that," he said angrily.

"Watch me, boy-o."


	9. The Little Things

CHAPTER 9—THE LITTLE THINGS

Donovan stood stark naked in the living room staring down at the cell phone as if it were some exotic animal.  Lomax was his friend, and he would have trusted him with his life, but he had difficulty accepting his accusations.  He dropped the phone back into his jacket pocket.  He reentered the bedroom and saw that Remy hadn't moved half an inch.  He opened a dresser drawer and dug around until he found a pair of tattered pajama bottoms.  He slipped into them before climbing onto the bed.

"Remy, wake up," he called to her, touching her arm at the same time.

She rose up slowly, stretching and yawning at the same time.  She opened her eyes and immediately settled them on Donovan's face.  His expression unsettled her.  _Not again_, she thought with a great deal of sadness.  "Frank?  Please don't say you're sorry again," she said softly.

He shook his head.  "I'm not sorry, Remy, but we need to talk."

Feeling vulnerable and exposed, she absently began searching for something to put on.  

Donovan took hold of her forearm.  "Don't."

"What is it?"

He wasn't sure how to approach this without sounding like a jealous prick.  A thought entered his mind:  **_Am_**_ I a jealous prick_?  In his usual bulldozer fashion, he plunged ahead:  "Have you been making passes at the last two agents sent to protect you?"

She gaped at him.  "You bastard.  I'm not a whore, no matter what the press has written about me."  She would have gotten off the bed if it hadn't been for his vise-like grip on her arm.

_Where is my tact_, he thought.  "Would you listen," he asked.  She said nothing, only stared at him.  He continued, "I don't like playing games, Remy.  Neither of us has time for them.  Do you understand?"

"I understand," she said.  "I'm not playing any kind of game.  If I were, wouldn't you be dead now?  How can you take me to bed, make love to me three times, and then give me this kind of shit?"  She wrenched her arm out of his grasp, but he grabbed her again.

"_Listen to me_," he demanded.  He drew her tightly up against his body.  His face was mere inches from hers.  "I'm not giving you shit.  If I hadn't wanted you, do you think you would be here at all?  Now more than ever, you have to be straight with me.  If you're hiding any secrets now, or in the past, I want you to tell me.  If I find out about them later, I'll make your life hell."

His words would seem a bit harsh to the average person, but his tone of voice was the exact opposite.  It was strange, but it seemed as if he was taking _her_ word over the FBI.  It was odd.  She had never had _anyone_ to believe in her like that.

"Too late," she whispered against his lips.  "You've done that already."

He kissed her very softly, his lips almost making no contact at all.  "I mean it," he said, his voice low and gentle.

Remy's arm slid around his waist, encircling it.  "There's nothing you don't know about me, Frank," she whispered, her voice husky with renewed desire.  "I couldn't hold anything back from you, especially not now."

Donovan pressed his mouth fully against hers, slipping his tongue inside, touching hers, teasing her.  He brought her body back down on the bed and came down on top of her.  Her other arm joined the first and came around him.  Together, her hands traveled downward and slipped inside his pajama bottoms.  Her fingers gripped his buttocks and her nails dug into them.

He broke the kiss and drew in a sharp hiss of breath.  "Damn, Remy," he sighed.  "What do you have, nails or claws?"  

"Both," she said with a grin.

He kissed her again, but this time briefly.  "We have to get you out of here," he said with great difficulty.  He wanted nothing more than to make love to her again, but it just wasn't safe enough.

"Right now," she asked as her hands continued to squeeze and knead.

"Mmmm," he moaned, "yes.  But you must stop this."

She slowly slid her hands up his back.  "Okay," she said, sighing in resignation.  "Let me up."

Donovan brought his body up and left the bed.  Remy remained where she was, and kept her body sprawled seductively across the bed.  She couldn't do this to him.  She didn't understand how close she would be to death if they remained here together.  Her situation was more than precarious, and she wasn't aware that her protection had ended.  It was something she needed know, but he couldn't tell her.  He had sworn himself to protect her at all costs, and by God, that was what he was going to do.  

*  *  *

Alex, Cody, Monica, and Jake listened to the message a dozen times or more.  Donovan had said few words:  _I'm leaving town, I'm not sure when I'll be back_.  It was simple, to the point, and annoyingly Donovan.  Their boss had lost his mind.  As they stood crowded around in a small huddle discussing Donovan's pending nervous breakdown, they heard a bustle of activity going on just outside the office door.  Jake grew annoyed by the racket and flung the door open in a huff.  He was faced with three or four G-men with identical scowls on their faces.  Among the group was Donovan's buddy, Ed Lomax.

"What the hell are you doing," Jake asked gruffly.

"FBI, my man," Lomax said smugly.  "We have search warrants.  Oh, and by the way, we also have a federal arrest warrant for Frank.  It appears he has taken our witness hostage."

*  *  *

Donovan had been driving almost six hours, and he couldn't take it anymore.  They weren't even close to a town with a hotel.  He did the only thing he could; he pulled the car over on a gravel road out in the country.  Remy sat opposite him, watching him closely.  He seemed troubled, but he wouldn't tell her what was on his mind.  She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid down the seat toward him.  He put his arm around her and drew her body close to his.  He placed a kiss atop her head before resting his cheek against her silky hair.

"You could always let me drive," she whispered.

"Not my car," he said with a grin, trying his damn best to lighten the moment.  

"Frank?  What is it?  I know there is something you're not telling me."

He closed his eyes and embraced her tightly against his body.  In all his years with the FBI, he had never allowed himself to lose his composure, had never become emotional no matter how difficult the situation.  However, now it was different.  He knew he would have to tell her that they were basically on their own.  He wasn't sure how she would take it.  For once, Donovan was afraid and entirely unsure as to what he should do.  He didn't have long to ponder.  His cell phone began to ring, and he was startled there was even service way out here.  At first, he didn't want to answer it, because he was almost certain that it would not be good news.

He dug the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.  "What is it," he asked tiredly.

"Boss, what's going on," Jake demanded from six hours away.  "We've been invaded by the goddamn FBI."

Donovan's brow furrowed in confusion.  "What?  The FBI?"

"They had search warrants, and your buddy says they're arresting you.  What's going on," he spat.

_Shit_.  The whole world had gone insane.  There was an arrest warrant for him?  He refused to say anything over the cell phone.  If he knew his buddy as well as he thought, the frequency was probably being monitored.  "Goodbye Jake."  Without another word, he shut off the phone and threw it carelessly in the backseat.  

Remy pulled back from him.  "Frank?"

He gazed deeply into her stunning eyes.  "We're on our own," he said, finally telling her.  He had no choice, not now.

Stunned, she stared at him, her mouth gaping open.  "What do you mean?"

"You've been taken off protection.  I'm the only one here for you right now.  The FBI has backed off."

Remy was too horrified to speak or cry.  She couldn't comprehend his words.  Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.  She suddenly felt as if she had been sucked into a vacuous void without a beginning or end.  "Are you saying what I think you're saying," she spat.  "The FBI is after _you_ now?"

He didn't say a word; he didn't have to.  It was all over him, especially in his eyes.

"Frank, take me back, right now, this instant.  All I have to do is go back to my old place and wait this out.  Let them have me.  I don't want you to face the end of your career because of me.  I won't have it.  Take me back.  _Now_."

"No," he said viciously, nearly spitting the word at her.  "You're _not_ to sacrifice your life for _me_."  He took her by her forearms and pulled her body toward his.  "Say it, Remy.  Say it back to me, or I'll fucking cuff you to my wrist for the rest of your life.  _Say it_."

"I won't, Frank, I won't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You won't _what_," he demanded, his eyes literally burning straight through her.

"I won't-won't sacrifice my-my life," she cried.

Satisfied for the moment, he drew her to him and kissed her hungrily

*  *  *

After a short break, Remy finally convinced Donovan to allow her to drive until they at least found a hotel.  He relented, but only because he was exhausted.  When Remy pulled the car into the parking lot of a small motor lodge, she saw that Donovan was asleep.  The instant the car stopped moving, he snapped himself awake.  He wanted to make sure that she didn't take off again.  He was worried that she would run.  He couldn't believe the relief he felt when he saw her still beside him in the car.

"You need some serious bed time, Frank, you look bad," she said.  "You stay here, and I'll get the rooms."

Curiously, he studied her.  "We're not getting separate rooms," he said.  He could clearly read her plan in her eyes.  He had played this game before.

"We don't have to," she said innocently, a little too innocently for his taste.

"I meant it about the cuffs, Remy," he said.

"I know, Frank," she said softly.  "I don't intend to run, I told you.  What will it take for you to trust me?"

"I trust you," he said, and he meant it.  "But I'm concerned.  Don't make me lose that trust."

Without a word, the two of them got out of the car and retrieved their bags.  Tiredly, they walked up to the manager's office and paid for a room.  The instant they went inside, Remy immediately went into the bathroom and started the shower.  By the time she climbed beneath the near scalding water, Donovan drew back the curtain and stepped inside.

"Can't you leave me alone long enough to shower," she asked, feigning hurt.

He ran his hands along her wet flesh.  "Nope," he said nonchalantly.  

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.  She wrapped her arms around his waist.  She halfway hoped he didn't want to make love to her in the shower.  A Suburban, she didn't mind; up against the wall, she could tolerate; but in a slippery tiled shower, that was a new thing altogether.  His large hands were hotter than the water pouring from the rusty spigot.  She figured they were both headed for concussions.  His lips broke away from hers and traveled down her throat as his hands moved down to her breasts.  His long fingers kneaded them, teased her nipples.

"Frank?"

"Remy," he said against her throat, his teeth nipping her flesh, his goatee tickling her incredibly.

His thumbs and forefingers were tweaking each nipple gently.  The sensation was horrible, terrible, but excruciatingly wonderful at the same time.  "I-I don't want to fall," she said.  Her voice was shaky, filled with passion.

Donovan drew away from her and drank her in with his eyes, which were darkened more by his lust.  "No?"

Never had one word meant so many different things at once.  What did he mean?  What did he want?  There were so many questions inside her that would never be answered.  "Not here," she whispered.

He smiled a little.  He had thrown her way off guard, but that was okay.  "Very well, then."

He drew away from her, shut off the water, and took hold of her hand.  He gently pulled her along with him.  Both of them were wet, and they were grateful that there were two beds in the room.  One could be soaked from the water on their bodies, and there would still be another awaiting them when they decided to go to sleep.  Donovan lifted her body up into his arms and laid her on the bed.  He came down to lean over her and his lips began to follow a trail of water droplets from her neck, to her breasts, and down onto her flat stomach.  By then, Remy was shaking, and it wasn't from a chill.  He moved up to kiss her again, and her hands slid down his arms, stopping at his hands where her fingers entwined with his.  When the kiss was broken, they switched positions, and Remy took the liberty to touch him, to caress his taut flesh, to run her hands over his smooth muscle.  He entered her while she was atop him and she met every thrust; every fiber of her being was in tune with his.  She couldn't explain it, she didn't want to.  She had told him she didn't want to fall, but she wasn't sure that was exactly true, and she knew it wouldn't be a hard task at all.

*  *  *

Donovan was asleep when Remy freed herself from his embrace.  She dressed in the dark, facing him the entire time.  Once fully clothed, she slung her bag over her shoulder and crept toward the door.  She turned and glanced longingly at Donovan one last time.  Without a sound, she opened the door and walked away.


	10. Remy's Mistake

CHAPTER 10—REMY'S MISTAKE

Donovan's exhaustion was acute.  He had slept several hours longer than he ever had in his life.  It was more like a coma than a regular sleep cycle.  The space beside him was cold and empty.  He didn't become immediately alarmed.  He had no reason to suspect that she had gone any further than the bathroom.  However, when he sat up, he noticed her bag wasn't in the corner beside his.  Although he knew it was a moot point, he called out to her a couple of times, but was only met with silence.  _Please God; please don't tell me she left_.  His prayer fell on deaf ears, of course.  He scrambled out of bed and pulled on the first shirt and pair of pants he could find.  She hadn't taken the keys, so he assumed she had left on foot.  He had no idea when she ran.  He had been sleeping, in his coma, and he felt like a failure.

*  *  *

Hours before Donovan awoke, Remy hitched her bag up on her shoulder and continued to plod forward along the small town streets.  She had no idea where they were, but the direction in which she walked was where she had driven them.  She tried to tell herself she hadn't lied to Donovan, that she had only misled him.  He was driven by testosterone.  He wasn't thinking clearly, and there was no way she would allow him to take a fall just to save _her_ ass.  Remy didn't see anything but miles and miles of road ahead of her.  Donovan preoccupied her mind as well, and she hoped he would forgive her.  So oblivious was she that she didn't notice the black car parked across the street.  She didn't see it pulling onto the road to follow her.

When she heard the screeching tires behind her, she was almost certain Donovan had found her again.  Although she thought her leaving was the best thing she could have done, a part of her was glad that he had come after her again.  She turned toward the noise, half expecting to see his metallic blue sedan.  It wasn't Donovan.  The car was long, menacing, and black.  Without a thought, she threw her bag down and began to run.  The driver of the car threw it in gear, and it seemed to roar as it began to roll toward her.  She wasn't stupid enough to believe she could outrun the car, but she refused to give up without a fight.

The car screeched to a halt in front of her, blocking her.  She tried to reverse her direction, but the passenger side door flew open and a thin, young looking man began to run after her.  Without a second thought, Cheeky tackled Remy to the ground.  He landed on top of her, and her face was pressed into the grass.  He held her arm jerked behind her, and when she struggled, he twisted it ruthlessly.

"How ya doing, whore," he asked, his stinky breath puffing in her face.  "Long time no see.  You look different with clothes on."

"Fuck you," she spat.  It was hard to speak with her face pressed into the ground.

"I would, baby, but I don't do whores."  He looked in the direction of the car.  "Boss!  Come on.  Help me with her.  She's gonna fight."

Another man began to approach Remy and Cheeky slowly, almost thoughtfully.  He stood in front of her and looked down at his game.  She was very beautiful, her eyes haunted him, and he could clearly see why Donovan insisted on fucking her every chance he got.  Remy rolled her eyes up to the tall man standing before her.  He was dark and had thick black hair.  A neatly clipped beard framed his face, somehow making him appear older.  Her vision obstructed, she wasn't sure who she was looking at.

"Frank," she asked groggily.

"Not quite, whore.  Look again.  Get your hand off her neck, Cheeky.  Let her see me.  Our faces will be the last ones she sees."

Cheeky released his hold just enough to allow Remy a better view of his face.  When she saw him, when she saw his eyes, she knew.  Immediately, she began to scream and fight.  Cheeky held onto her tightly, shoving her face down onto the ground again.  When that didn't work, he balled up his fist and smacked the back of her head with all his strength.  The blow knocked her out, sending her down into a wonderful black void.  Before the blackness engulfed her, she thought of Donovan, and hoped these men would not harm him.

*  *  *

Donovan ran out to his car.  He remembered his cell phone in the backseat.  Before he got underway, he reached back and grabbed it.  When he turned it on, a dozen voice messages awaited him.  His heart sank when none of them were from Remy.  Most of them were from his team.  One particular message affected him more than all the others combined:  "_We've been shut down, Boss_," Cody's voice said.  "_Until further notice.  Whatever is going on, let us help_."  Let them help with this one?  No way.  What was business was now personal.  He had to find Remy before it was too late.

The town where Remy had driven them was called Jud Hill, and it was small.  There were only four or five streets total, and the main road led into and out of town.  He figured Remy might have gone that way to get out.  Although his heart was seized by panic, he drove down the street slowly and examined every nook and cranny.  He recalled that the last time she ran off, he found her bag before he found her.  His eyes scanned the sides of the road for any sign.  He had driven almost the entire length of Main Street and was about to turn around until his eyes caught sight of something peculiar.  He pulled the car over to the side of the road and got out.  As he feared, the peculiar item that caught his attention was Remy's bag.  He bent over and retrieved it.  It had been partially, but deliberately, hidden behind a roadside garbage bin.  This did not bode well for Remy.

The garbage bin was large.  Someone could very easily hide a body inside it if they were creative enough.  With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he drew his weapon and carefully approached the bin.  There was no lid on it, and the sickening smell of baked-under-the-sun garbage wafted up into the air.  It was nauseating.  Donovan stepped up to the bin and peered inside.  Remy was not inside, and the incredulity of that fact overwhelmed him.  He staggered backward, nearly falling over his feet.  His relief was met by even more angst.  If she hadn't been murdered and tossed aside, she had been abducted.  He had no idea where to begin looking for her.

*  *  *

Remy's eyes were filled with hatred and fixed upon the one called Cheeky.  Her memory had come back the instant he touched her.  This fuck had killed the senator and had tried to kill her.  He had even taken her to the same hotel.  His 'boss' was also with them.  He had stepped out to take care of some 'business' to do with Donovan.  The two men were planning on how they would dispose of her.  She wasn't sure what they had planned for Donovan, and she couldn't bear the thought of his dying.  He had nothing to do with the senator.  All he had done was gotten suckered into being her bodyguard.  

The boss returned to the room and gazed at Remy.  She was tied to a chair and looked inviting enough.  She had seduced a hard-nosed senator and a hard-assed agent.  She had brought them to their knees and sent them begging like little boys.  It wasn't hard to see how she had the power to do that.  He would enjoy playing with her a few hours before giving the order to have her eliminated.  He had also cooked up a nice little plan to get himself and Cheeky off the hook.  It was brilliant.  But first, before the fun could begin, he had to get some information out of the fair-haired whore.

"So, you little whore," he said with a pleasant smile.  "What did you do with the package Anthony gave you?"

She hated him.  She wanted him dead.  "I don't know what you're talking about," she spat.

He looked over at Cheeky and gave a simple nod of his head.  The other man approached Remy and slapped her hard, backhand, across her cheek.  The blow jerked her head violently to the right.  She refused to cry, refused to let them break her down.  If they wanted to kill her, so be it.  She just didn't want them to hurt Donovan.  

The boss grabbed a vacant chair and pulled it close to Remy.  He flipped it backward and straddled it.  He propped his arms over the back of the chair and gazed harshly into her eyes.  "Come on, slut child, I know you know what I'm talking about.  Anthony was an idiot.  I know he told you things.  You knew him intimately, didn't you?  You fucked him, probably gave him blowjobs, let him spank you…all that good shit, right?  Anthony was a kinky fuck.  We had that in common."

Just the thought of this man touching her was enough to make her feel nauseous.  "Anthony told me nothing.  I was his sperm bank, you prick."

"Come on, whore.  You don't want me to give Cheeky the opportunity to smack you around again, do you?  That cocky shit may have worked with Donovan, but it's not going to work with me.  Frankie boy could always be easily led around by the balls.  I saw it time and time again.  Not me.  No way.  So, whore, what is it going to be?"

"Are you an idiot, or are you deaf?  I told you, I know nothing about a package."  She held up her head, her arrogant cheekbones were flushed with anger.

The boss sighed in the deepest of aggravation.  "Cheeky, I'm going to step out for a drink.  Do whatever you want with her beyond killing her.  I'll be back in a couple of hours."

*  *  *

Donovan knew he wouldn't make it back for several hours.  He got on his cell phone again and began barking orders left and right.  He ordered Jake and Alex to check out Remy's apartment, to tear it apart.  He still had no idea where to find her, but he would not rest until he did.  His single-minded purpose was to find her and then deal with her abductors.  

Within two hours of his barked orders, he received an update from Alex.  She and Jake had found something inside Remy's apartment.  It was apparently what the killer had been looking for when he ransacked the place.  It gave a clear picture, so to speak, of who had orchestrated the assassination of Anthony Wengrod.  When Donovan heard the name, he was shocked.  He quickly batted the shock aside.  He would deal with it later.  Right now, he had to get to Remy.

*  *  *

Cheeky stood and stared at the whore for a few hours.  Her face had begun to bruise where he'd smacked her.  She was a steady and strong whore, she hadn't flinched once, nor was she crying.  It was the weirdest thing he had ever seen.  He didn't exactly want to do anything to her but kill her.  She had been his first victim to walk away alive.  He was prepared to torture her, if necessary.  But fuck her?  Naw.  He was no rapist; he had morals for Pete's sake.  Besides, why would he want a piece of ass that had been taken repeatedly?  It didn't appeal to him at all.

While Cheeky stared at her, Remy was trying to think of a way to release her bonds.  It was tough going.  Cheeky had used duct tape, and she wondered what the stuff was made of…steal?  The moron wouldn't stop gawking at her, and there was nothing she could do about it.  Her mind wondered back to Donovan.  Where was he?  Was he alive?  Dead?  She had made a grave mistake.  Not only would it lead to her death, but it may also have led to his as well.  It was a thought she couldn't live with.  She didn't care anymore; she was ready to die.

*  *  *

Donovan pulled his car into the hotel's parking garage.  He had denied Jake and Alex's request to back him up.  This was something he would have to do alone.  Once the identity of 'the boss' had been revealed, Donovan was pretty sure where they were holding Remy.  He hoped he had gotten to her in time.  It had been hours, and he wasn't certain she was alive anymore.  However, if that were the case [he fought against that idea furiously], the killers would be dealt with swiftly and lethally.

At one time, The Armorel had been one of the city's nicer hotels.  However, it had gone through several different owners and they were constantly on the verge of bankruptcy.  Whoever owned the hotel at any given time simply didn't fix it up on a regular basis.  More or less, the hotel was used for nondescript meetings between call girls and their clients.  He wasn't sure why the senator chose this particular hotel when he wanted to meet Remy, but he knew it was a haunt of 'the boss' as well.  He needed to find a back entrance, some way to get to the rooms without going around to the front.  If the killer saw him, it would be all over.  The only renovation done on The Armorel through the years was the addition of elevators.  Donovan thought there might be a different entrance that was used by those few who still insisted on climbing stairs.  Yet, he didn't know what room to look for.  This was turning into a never-ending nightmare.

His cell phone rang suddenly, and he swiftly shut it off.  He had no time for a chat session.  After pacing about the parking garage for what seemed like an hour, Donovan spied a door leading to the stairs.  He didn't know where it would lead him, but he knew he couldn't stand out here fighting himself any longer.  There would be a confrontation tonight, regardless of which way he entered.

*  *  *

The boss was back in the room again.  He took great joy in watching Remy squirm.  He stared down at the photo Cheeky had taken of her and Donovan.  He didn't know why he had even brought it with him, but he liked torturing her.  He would also like to torture Donovan, and he would as soon as he found him.  He had no doubt that Donovan would eventually show up.  He wasn't stupid, he would find his way soon.  He wanted to kill Remy, but he would prefer to do it in Donovan's presence.  It would be nice payback.  And of course, payback was his business.

"Did you enjoy your time with Frankie, whore," he asked suddenly.  She said nothing.  She sat there and continued to loathe him.  He smiled.  "This picture was great.  I wish I could have been there when it was going on, but I had another job to do.  Let me tell you, holding down two jobs can kill a person."

Remy stared at the man as if he were nuts [which he was].  "Why are you telling me this?"

"I want to make a deal with you, whore.  How about I set you up with a place to live, a nice allowance, and a car.  What if I were to exchange this for the package?  Would you help me?"  Of course, he had no intention of making a deal with her.  He would have her killed either way the die fell.

"Even if I knew what you were talking about, I'd never make one damn deal with you.  You disgust me.  If you're going to kill me, just do it."

Although the boss hardly got physical [he paid other people to do that], he approached Remy and dug his fingers into her cheeks, grotesquely distorting her face.  "In due time, you fucking whore.  I want that fucking package.  _You're going to die slow, do you understand me_?"  He released her and stood back.

"If you want me dead," she spat, "why don't you do it yourself?  You're a coward."

He drew back and slapped her hard.  "Fuck you, you whore.  Cheeky is going to make your demise _really_ interesting."  He flashed his eyes on Cheeky's face.  "Keep your eyes on this whore again.  I need to get out for air."

*  *  *

Donovan stopped after climbing the first two flights of stairs.  There was a door leading to a room before the stairs continued on.  Taking a chance, he opened it and stepped out in the back way of the lobby.  He ducked behind a wall and peeked around the corner.  There were dozens of people milling about, but none of them were who he was looking for.  He stayed where he was and continued looking at the crowd.  He drew in a sharp intake of breath as his eyes identified the boss.  He ducked behind the wall again as he tried to collect himself.  He hoped to follow the man up to his room.  He carefully peered around the corner again and noticed that the man hadn't moved an inch.  He was speaking into a cell phone.  When the man got on the move, Donovan slipped around the wall and followed at a safe distance.

Of course, the boss was aware Donovan was skulking around in the shadows, and that was fine.  He didn't mind at all to lead him right up to the room.  Donovan followed as closely as he could.  He crept up the stairs behind the man.  He suspected he was walking into a trap.  It was too easy.  But he couldn't help it.  If Remy could be saved, he would die for her.

*  *  *

Even though it should have been the furthest thing from her mind, Remy dozed in and out for the next twenty minutes.  It was her body's way of dealing with stress.  During one of her 'wake' phases, the boss crept back in and laid his eyes on Remy.  He was smiling at her again.

"We're about to have a visitor, whore.  You know him well, you fucked him well.  Please welcome former FBI agent and current unemployed Justice Department employee, FRANK DONOVAN," he screamed.

She didn't know if he was serious, crazy, or both.  "_Frank?  No_," she cried out.

Donovan was right outside the door, he heard the screams, and immediately knew he had stupidly stepped into the worst trap of his life.  He didn't get the chance to kick open the door.  It was opened for him, and he stood face to face with the man who had almost been his brother in-law.  

The sound of semi-automatic gunfire exploded suddenly, making a deafening roar in the tiny space of the hotel room.  Remy screamed and screamed.


	11. Life & Death

CHAPTER 11—LIFE & DEATH

Bullets whizzed past Remy's head.  There was nothing she could do to stop it, she was defenseless and out in the open.  She couldn't see Donovan anywhere.  She waited for a bullet to rip into her flesh, but none ever did.  She was blind, deaf, and mute.  To her, it seemed as if the gunfire went on for hours, but it only took a few minutes to complete the final showdown.  Despite Donovan's insistence, Jake and Alex came along to the hotel.  They could not leave their fearless leader out in the cold.  Besides, right at that moment, he wasn't exactly their leader and they weren't bound to obey his orders anymore.  They had brought the police and FBI along with them under the guise they were capturing Donovan.  

Cheeky was the first to be taken out.  He went down fighting, not stopping until he was dead.  Lomax hid behind the bed.  He had taken a hit to the shoulder, but he was ready to give up.  As the gunfire ceased and the noise settled, Jake took custody of Ed Lomax while Alex tended to the almost catatonic hostage.  It was at that moment they finally noticed Donovan.  He had been shot multiple times and wasn't responding.  An ambulance had been summoned during the confusion, and several police officers had begun trying to aid the fallen agent.

Once Remy was released from her bonds, her seeming catatonia lifted.  She screamed out for Donovan and ran toward his prone body.  She was held back and away by Alex who had basically been right on her heels.  She tried to fight with the other woman, but Alex wasn't having it.

"Let them do their jobs," she said to Remy through a severe whisper.  "You're not doing him any good fighting like this."

Somehow, some way, Remy found the strength to control her outbursts.  But she never took her eyes off her lover.  There was blood all over him, and from her vantage point, she couldn't tell if he was even breathing.  She couldn't help but feel at fault.  If she had only listened to him, if she had thought before she reacted.  However, that had never been her way, and now Donovan was paying the price for her idiocy.

*  *  *

Later, from the ER, a surgeon said, "Tremendous blood loss, we need to get blood in here NOW."  The heart monitor stopped beeping, and sounded a steady tone.  "Flatline.  Get a crash cart over here, STAT."

*  *  *

The scene in the ER waiting room was bizarre.  In one corner of the room, Remy sat alone, completely isolated from the others inside.  Her isolation, of course, was self-imposed, but she couldn't tolerate the harsh expressions of the people in the room with her.  Who she assumed was Donovan's team was seated in another corner.  Two of them she recognized as the ones who had taken down Ed Lomax and had killed Cheeky.  The third was an attractive African-American female who stared at her as if she were the Antichrist.  The fourth was a young man who seemed totally lost and clueless.  Whoever they were, their facial expressions and body language clearly indicated they had serious issues with her.

Of course, they weren't altogether sure what role this woman played in Donovan's shooting.  They had all seen her profile, knew her history, and had also seen the photo taken of his tryst with her.  They hadn't connected the dots yet, and weren't sure if they wanted to right now.  The only thing the five of them had in common was their concern for Donovan.  And it was a _huge_ concern.  A cowardly ambush attack perpetrated by Edward Lomax had caused four bullets to riddle Donovan's body.  Two of them had caused only simple flesh wounds, but the third and fourth had done serious damage.  In some type of hideous irony only Lomax could understand, the bullets entered in different areas of his abdomen.  

Remy leaned forward in her chair and covered her face with her hands.  It had been a long time since they heard any updates.  She wanted to leave, but she could only stay.  She couldn't move until she knew for certain that Donovan would live.  After that, she would slip into obscurity and never interfere in his life again.  She was completely oblivious and unaware of the people around her.  If they spoke, she didn't hear it.  If they moved, she didn't see it.  So oblivious was she that she didn't notice as Alex approached her.

Jake, Cody, and Monica had literally begged Alex not to approach the woman.  They didn't quite trust her, and they didn't feel right comforting her.  But Alex insisted.  She couldn't stand to see Remy suffering alone.  It wasn't right.  She was just as concerned, if not more so, about Donovan as they.

Remy felt a hand upon her shoulder, and she uncovered her face, thinking hopefully it was a doctor with good news.  To her surprise, she was looking into the face of the agent with ice-blue eyes.  She was so stunned by the gesture that she didn't know what to say or do.

"He'll be okay," she said.  "Frank has gone through a lot, and he always seems to come out unscathed."

She couldn't make eye contact with the female agent for long, she felt entirely too guilty.  "I didn't listen to him," she whispered as she gazed down at her hands.  "I ran off, and he came after me.  If I had listened, he wouldn't be here."

_Bless her heart_, Alex thought.  _She is falling in love with him_.  "There is one thing you need to learn about Frank Donovan," she began, "he has his own mind and is the most stubborn person on this planet.  Believe me, this was going to happen regardless of whether or not you ran away.  From what we've dug up, this Lomax character has had it in for him for years.  By the way, I'm Alex."

She nodded at Alex's introduction.  "I'm Remy," she said shakily.  "Why would this man want to hurt Frank?  I thought they were friends?"

"More like enemies," an approaching voice said.  It was Jake.  He kneeled before Remy and looked up at her gently.  "They _were_ friends until Donovan became involved with his sister."

Suddenly, Remy's mind went back to the night Donovan had been dreaming.  He had uttered a name.  "Cloe?"

"Even _I_ didn't know _that_," Cody said as he and Monica joined the small crowd forming around Remy.

"You didn't have the file, Code-man," Monica said.

"Apparently, Lomax's sister was killed while she was with Donovan.  The grudge never ended," Alex said.  "The package Lomax was so paranoid about had photos, documentation, and other little goodies detailing his _other_ job.  He was into drugs, money laundering, murder-for-hire, you name it, and he did it.  The senator was in on some of those schemes, but he must have decided to get out.  He hid this package inside your apartment in the only place Lomax didn't bother looking in."

Shocked, horrified, and fascinated at the same time, Remy gawped at Alex.  "_Where_?  I never saw anything."

"Behind your computer desk where only dust bunnies lurk," Jake said nonchalantly.

*  *  *

Back in the ER, the lead surgeon was desperately trying to salvage the man's life.  "We're losing him again.  BP is sinking like a stone.  Come on, my good man, you have to help us out."

*  *  *

Although many questions had been answered, there were several for which Remy still had no answer.  The wait for news on Donovan was heart wrenching.  It had been so long since they received the last update, that Remy had begun to worry.  As Donovan had done years before her with Cloe, she couldn't rest.  She was certain something had gone wrong.  Yet, she couldn't pace.  Her legs simply wouldn't support her.

Alex looked up as Jake slipped back into the waiting room.  Out of Remy's eyeshot, he motioned for Alex.  She left Remy's side and approached him.  The stress was evident on his face.  "What's wrong?"

Jake shook his head.  "They don't think he's going to make it."

*  *  *

Remy appreciated the unexpected kindness of Donovan's team, but she was a solitary sufferer.  She excused herself and began walking down the hallway.  Perhaps she would run into someone who could tell her about Donovan.  Her gut was telling her that something had gone terribly wrong.  If her fears became reality, she would never forgive herself.  She walked up and down the same hall a hundred times or more.  If she didn't hear an update soon, she would lose her already shaky mind.

She made her way back to the waiting room where the others waited.  A feeling close to horror engulfed her when she noticed that Alex and Monica were crying, and the men were clenching their jaws bravely.  _No_, she cried to herself.  _No_.  Her heart couldn't take it, her mind couldn't comprehend it.  Like Donovan had done so many years before, she passed out cold at the thought of his death.

*  *  *

A hand smacked her cheek repeatedly.  She could hear someone calling her name.  It sounded like Monica, but she wasn't sure.  Her eyes fluttered open slowly and she blinked them until her vision cleared.  The dark, earnest face of the other woman was peering down into hers.  

"Are you okay?  You bumped your head pretty hard," Cody said.

Her body had been placed down onto a rock hard waiting room couch.  She gazed up at the group of faces gazing worriedly down into hers.  "Frank?  He's dead," she spat through her tears.

"Honey, I don't know which doctor you spoke with, but the one we saw said he's going to be okay," Monica said gently.

She sat up suddenly, not understanding.  "But-but you were-were _crying_."

"Tears of joy."

"I want to see him," she said.

"You can't yet.  He's still in recovery," Alex said.

_Recovery_.  Never had a word sounded so beautiful.

*  *  *

Although Donovan had pulled through surgery, he was still critical.  Remy wasn't prepared to see such a strong man looking so vulnerable.  There were IV lines running in each arm and a ventilator tube was crammed into his beautiful mouth.  The tube was only there as a precaution, and would likely be removed in a few hours, but it still looked so very bad.  He was still out cold, but again, he was on massive painkillers.

Remy approached his bedside.  She had fought tooth and nail to be allowed inside to see him in ICU.  She wasn't his wife, but she lied to gain access, and of course, she had back up from Donovan's team.  She touched him.  His skin, normally warm and comforting, was clammy to the touch.  His dark skin was the ashen color of the ill.  It was difficult looking at him like this, knowing that he had nearly given his life for hers.  

"Frank," she whispered, unsure if he could even hear her.  "I won't ever forget you for what you did for me.  I'm sorry I left you, put you in this situation, and I hope you can forgive me.  I hope you can also forgive me for saying goodbye.  I can't ever let anything happen like this again."

In his foggy, unconscious state, he heard her clearly.  It was simply too hard to fight against the painkillers.  He wasn't supposed to move or speak, but he was too stubborn to listen to anyone but himself.  His eyes fluttered open slowly.  He turned his head as far as he could.  "Mmmmmm," he moaned.  He couldn't speak; the damn tube was stuck in his throat.

"Frank?"

He shook his head and focused his foggy eyes on her face.  She could clearly see what he was thinking.  _Don't leave_, his eyes seemed to say.  _I want you to stay_.  He wouldn't take no for an answer.  He never did. 


	12. Life Abounds

EPILOGUE—LIFE ABOUNDS

Donovan had never spent more than two days off work in his life.  It was bred into him to work tirelessly, and he hated being inactive.  He also didn't appreciate being babied, either, but Remy hovered over him the first few days he was out of the hospital.  It was sweet, and he couldn't help smiling a little, but she backed off when she realized that he was going to be okay.  But it was a relief having her with him, because he nearly lost her.  Donovan began to relax, which was odd for him, and his mind drifted back to his time in the hospital.

_The aggravating hospital didn't take the tube out of his mouth until the next day.  The surgery and blood loss had left him weak and exhausted, but he wanted to be able to talk, to hear his voice saying Remy's name.  She stayed by his bedside as much as the hospital would allow.  He had nearly hurt himself laughing one morning after the nurse called Remy 'Mrs. Donovan.'  She had turned a wonderful shade of scarlet red and explained why she had to lie.  He didn't care.  She was with him, and he couldn't stop looking at her._

_Donovan was healthy as a horse and he began to heal fairly quickly.  It would take some time for the internal damage to heal, and he was certain to be on sick leave for an equally long amount of time.  He wasn't sure how he felt about that.  The charges brought up by the FBI [mainly by Ed Lomax] were dropped, and Donovan was reinstated without question.  He would still have to answer for his actions with regard to the photograph, but his discipline would be no harsher than a slap on the wrist.  _

_Remy could not shake her guilt.  It didn't matter how much he tried to ease her mind; she wouldn't let go.  She was still intent on going away.  "Some day, you will have to stop running," he told her.  "It should stop today, Remy.  I know what it's like to run; I've done my fair share.  No matter how far away you run, your past will eventually catch you.  Why don't you let it take you?  Why don't you let it keep you with me?  Stay, Remy, and together we can deal with our pasts, defeat the pain, and live."_

_Of course, she couldn't deny him, not after that._

The door slammed, jarring Donovan awake.  He rose up too suddenly, and wound up hurting his stomach in the process.  It was still messed up, even after four months.  

"Oh, damn, Frank, I didn't mean to scare you," Remy said.  

She had two shopping bags under her arms and two more in her hands.  Tonight, she wanted to cook for him, and it appeared she had bought out the whole damn store.  He contemplated whether or not to ask her to move in him.  She had rented another apartment [seedy, much to Donovan's chagrin] and found another job as a secretary, but this time it wasn't in a government office.  She refused to work as a state employee ever again.  He worried about her, but that wasn't necessarily his motivation for wanting her to live with him.  He loved her, but had yet to tell her.  _Yup, I'm a chicken shit_, he thought.

"You didn't scare me, I was sleeping."

She refused his help to carry the bags into the kitchen.  When she returned to the living room, he had sat up on the couch and casually crossed his ankles.  She approached him and sat beside him, folding her legs underneath her.  Her fingers went to the back of his head and she played carelessly with his hair.

"You look really good today," she said with a smile.

He turned toward her slightly, mindful of his injuries.  "It's all the cooking you're doing for me.  I'm getting fat."

"I think it's more likely that you're getting healthy."

He took her free hand in his and entwined his fingers with hers.  "There's something I want to tell you, and then there's something I want to ask."

Intrigued, she lifted an eyebrow and grinned at him.  His demeanor was one of a nervous little boy.  She had never seen him like this.  "Wow, I'm impressed.  Frank Donovan is flustered."  She watched as his ears turned red, then the color spread to his cheeks.  

"Don't tease me," he said through a low moan.

She lifted his hand up to her lips and kissed it.  "I'm sorry.  What's on your mind?"

He shifted his position again so he could bring his lips up near her ear.  He kissed her earlobe very softly.  "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

The sound of his voice and the gentle words he whispered sent shivers down her spine.  He didn't move.  He stayed where he was, gently kissing her earlobe and the side of her neck.  "Frank," she whispered.

"Yes," he asked against her neck.

"I love you, too."  She could feel him smiling against her neck.  Goose bumps broke out all over her.

"Can you get out of your lease," he asked softly.

She wanted to pull away and look at him on that one, but she couldn't move.  His lips felt delicious and urgent.  "My lease?"

He slid the tip of his tongue up her neck and flicked her earlobe.  "Yes, your lease.  Can you get out of it?"

His lips and tongue could do such delightfully sinful things to her.  "Maybe," she said with a sigh.  

"I hope so," he said as his teeth nipped her throat.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

Each 's' in 'yes' had a hissing quality about it that drove her nuts.  "And why is that?"

"It will make it easier for you when you move in with me."

This time, she did pull away.  "Frank?"

He smiled at the startled expression on her face.  "Remy," he mocked.  "So, what do you think?"

"I think I'm going to need help packing," she said.

*  *  *

Three months later, Remy came into the apartment in search of Donovan.  She found him in the bedroom.  She had to stifle a laugh as she watched him checking out his abdomen in the full-length mirror by the bed.

"I've always known you were stubborn, sexy, persistent, and a goon bastard, but I never thought you were vain," she said, unable to hold back a chuckle.

He turned toward her and smiled a little.  "I was checking out the scars.  Do you think anybody will notice?"

She approached him and ran her hand over his flat stomach.  "It depends on how many people will see you naked," she said, amused.  "Should I be worried?"

"Nope," he said as he kissed her forehead.

"Good," she said before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.  "I wasn't looking forward to being a single mother."

He pulled away and looked at her incredulously.  Incoherently, he spat, "Single?  Mother?"

His widened eyes and gaped open mouth were hysterical.  She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.  "Yep," she said nonchalantly.  Her eyes twinkled.  "Who says birth control pills are ninety-eight percent effective?  Who says condoms can't break?  I think we have a lawsuit in the making."

***********************************************************************************************

Okay, this do be the end of the epilogue.  Long one, wasn't it?  [grin]  Soooooo, should I do a sequel or just leave it be?  THANKS for all your feedback.  


	13. Changes, Changes, Changes

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I started to do a sequel to "Mission:  Aggravation," but I decided to just tag it at the end.  It picks up where the epilogue left off.  RnR if you please.  

***************************************************************************************************

CHAPTER 13--CHANGES, CHANGES, CHANGES 

Donovan stood before Remy with a gaped open mouth.  Had he heard her correctly?  Had she actually said what he thought she said?  For a moment, he felt light-headed.  "You're pregnant," he spat stupidly.

She nodded.  "Yeah."

He stepped away from her and sat down hard on the bed.  "Shit," he said.

It wasn't exactly what she expected to hear from him.  "Frank?  Are you okay with this?"

He nodded and then looked up at her.  "Oh yeah," he said.  "I'm just shocked."

She sighed.  "Good, because I was scared there for a moment."

He stood and approached her.  He took her into his embrace and kissed her.  "I'm sorry, Remy, I think it's wonderful, but I wasn't expecting it."

"Neither was I," she said with a smile.

*  *  *

Much later, the two of them were in bed.  Remy had had no trouble shutting down the clock and going to sleep.  Donovan, however, was wide-awake.  His dark eyes were affixed to the ceiling, his hands behind his head.  He still hadn't come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father.  He hadn't lied when he told her he thought it was wonderful, but he couldn't lie and say that he was prepared, because he was not.  However, he loved her deeply and had been on the verge of asking her to marry him.  He wasn't sure if she would marry him now or not.  Like an impatient little boy, he wanted to wake her up and ask her right away.  He hesitated.  She was sleeping so deeply.  _I'm a chickenshit_, he thought.

The next morning, Donovan awoke alone.  Remy's side of the bed was vacant.  He sat up and looked around.  Oddly, she was up and gone.  She normally never got out of bed before him.  For a moment, he was a little upset with her.  They needed to talk, and he needed to propose.  He went about his morning ritual of shower and caffeine.  After that, Donovan was convinced that Remy had gone to work for the day.  _Work, what a novel idea_, he thought.  Today would mark his first official day back in the field.

The instant Donovan stepped into the office; he was greeted with five voices screaming, "_WELCOME BACK!_"  He was shocked and surprised at the same time.  One of the five voices, of course, was Remy.  _So this is where she went_, he thought.  He fixed his gaze on Remy for a few minutes, seemingly trying to communicate with her telepathically.  She let her eyebrows do the shrugging for her.

"Come on, Boss, we have _cake_," Cody said happily.

"Cake," he spat as if hearing the word for the first time.

"Come on, baby, have some cake and get that goofy look off your face," Remy said as she approached him and took his arm.

He leaned his head down close to her ear and whispered, "Speaking of baby, I need to talk to you."

"Later," she said.  "Come on, don't spoil this.  They worked hard to get it set for you," she told him.

_Spoil it_?  What was she talking about?  He wanted to make it better, wanted to ask her to marry him.  How would that be spoiling anything…unless…she didn't _want_ to marry him?  "Okay, but before you go, I want to talk to you alone."

She leaned up to kiss his cheek.  "Of course."

Donovan ate cake and drank punch until he thought he might be sick.  He kept a close eye on Remy.  She wasn't eating or drinking anything.  In fact, she looked a little pale, as if she might pass out, vomit, or both.  His need to be alone with her was driving him to utter distraction.  He couldn't hear the activity around him, the constant chattering, nothing.  He was focused solely on Remy.  After more than two hours, the activity surrounding them had finally begun to settle down.  Donovan took the opportunity to approach Remy and shuttle her off to his office.  Of course, the others noticed, but they said nothing.  They suspected something was going on between the couple, but 'closed mouth' Donovan would never share.

"You're rude, aren't you," Remy teased as Donovan took her into an embrace.

"Maybe a little," he said and kissed the tip of her nose.  "Hearing yesterday about the baby really threw me for a loop, but the more I think about it, the more I love it, and the more I love you."

"The things you say, Frank," she said with a little sigh.  "You certainly know how to melt women's drawers, don't you?"

He shook his head and smiled.  "No, just yours."

"Okay," she said, "enough of this.  I don't want to attack you while people are downstairs.  Why did you insist on seeing me alone?  What absolutely couldn't wait until later?"

Not exactly sure how to proceed [_chickenshit_], he decided to go for the gusto.  "I want to marry you," he spat suddenly before losing his nerve.

She hadn't wanted to be with him when he awoke this morning, because she was pretty sure he would pop the question.  In the time they had been together, the subject of marriage had never been spoken about.  Neither of them seemed to even want it.  Of course, the second she announced she was pregnant, he wanted to get married.  She loved him and honestly wanted to marry him, but not because of her pregnancy.  Trapping him was not what she intended to do.  She was certain he was only asking because of the baby.  Remy didn't want him to look back years after they married, and then regret his decision.  She loved him too much for that.  He stood staring at her expectantly.  He wanted an answer, and from the look on his face, he wanted it now.

"Frank, I'm sorry, but the answer is no," she said softly.

Of course, it wasn't quite the answer he expected to hear.  Hurt, he continued to gaze at her, but he didn't let her go.  "No?  Excuse me if I missed something, but why no?"

She drew away from his embrace.  "I don't want to get married just because I'm pregnant."

He drew her back into his arms.  "Is that what you think?  I want to marry you because I love you, not because you're pregnant."

"Think about that for a minute, Frank.  Are you sure?  How long have we been together?  In that time, how often did we talk about getting married?  Not once.  Am I wrong?"

"Yes you're wrong," he said incredulously.  "I've wanted to marry you for a long time, but I never asked."

She pulled away again and crossed her arms.  "And you must ask yourself why you didn't, Frank.  When I told you I was pregnant, that prompted it.  Marrying because of that scares me, Frank.  The answer is no."  She made her way toward the door.  "I have to go."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.  Was she crazy?  She was irrational, and there was nothing he could say to make it better.  "Remy, this isn't finished.  Okay?"

She looked back at him briefly and nodded.  "Okay.  But later."  Without another word, she opened the door and walked out.

_What just happened_, he wondered.  He couldn't deny her refusal hurt deeply.  However, he didn't understand her point of view at all.  It was true they never discussed getting married, but he _had_ thought of it often.  He simply hadn't spoken to her about it, because he didn't know if she was ready for such a big step.  The game had changed.  She was carrying his child, and there was no way he'd allow her to walk away from him now.

*  *  *

Donovan went home early that evening.  He didn't want to push it too far on his first day back in the field.  He had basically sat up in his office all day, trying to read through his mound of paperwork.  Of course, it was no use.  He could only think about Remy.  He wanted to get home to her, to convince her that he loved her, and wanted to marry her regardless of whether or not she was pregnant.

When Donovan entered the apartment, he could hear the shower running.  By the time he made it to the bathroom, Remy stepped out of the shower, and towel dried her hair.  He gazed at her steadily.  His eyes automatically went down to her flat belly.  He couldn't believe there was a child inside her.  He didn't say anything right away; he wanted to look at her, drink her in.

"You're in early," she said as she wrapped a towel around her body.  She moved away from him and entered the bedroom.

He stood at the door and turned to face her.  She sat on the bed with all her hair brushed in front of her face.  She was trying hard not to look at him.  "I think today, we left things unfinished."

"I think we did," she said softly.

"Would you get your hair out of your face and look at me."

Silently, she flipped her head back and brushed her hair away from her face.  "Better?"

"Lots."  He sighed, "I don't want to fight with you, Remy.  I want us to straighten this out."

"I want that, too, Frank, but I can't marry you.  Please understand that."

"I _don't_ understand it," he said stiffly, angrily.

"No, because you _can't_ see it," she said.  "You said it yourself.  This baby threw you for a loop.  And your response is the old-fashioned, 'well I guess we gotta get married now.'  It complicates our relationship, but I'm not sorry it did.  I love you, Frank, and I want to have your baby.  But I don't want to marry you just because I'm knocked up.  That's something you're going to have to understand."

Donovan was taken back to when he first met her.  She hadn't annoyed him so much since then, but now, she was doing again.  "Goddamn it, Remy," he spat.  "The baby has nothing to do with me wanting to marry you.  I'm beginning to think it's _you_ who doesn't want to marry me."

"Oh wonderful," she said with a sigh.  "Blame me.  I love you; I'd kill to be your wife.  But I want it to be for the right reasons, not because we're pregnant."

Unable to help himself any longer, he approached her and sat on the bed, turning his body to face her.  "You're _not_ listening to me.  I wanted to marry you _months_ ago.  This was before you even became pregnant.  What more can I say?  What more can I do?"

"Nothing," she whispered.  "Please don't ask me again, because the answer will not change."

"Okay," he said, defeated for the moment.  He got off the bed and made his way toward the living room.  Just before he stepped out, he glanced back at her.  "I'm going out for awhile.  Don't wait up."

She said nothing.  She simply watched him walk out.  She hated herself, literally hated herself.  She had hurt him so badly.  Her intention had never been to hurt him.  Whatever the case, she saw the look on his face, and the way his eyes darkened with anger.  She couldn't express her true feelings to Donovan.  The thought of marriage and motherhood terrified her.  However, the thought of marrying for the wrong reasons terrified her even more.

*  *  *

Despite Donovan asking her not to wait up for him, Remy did anyway.  She glanced at the bedside clock when she heard the front door closing.  It was after two in the morning.  He came into the darkened bedroom without a sound.  A few moments later, he went into the bathroom and started the shower.  Remy debated with herself for several minutes trying to decide what to do.  

He turned his head when the shower door creaked open.  His eyes settled on Remy for a few brief moments before he directed his face into the spray of water.  She closed the door behind her and settled her hands on each side of his waist.  She pressed her lips against the middle of his back.

"I hurt you, and I'm sorry," she said over the pounding intensity of the water.

He wanted to ignore her, to be angry with her, but there was no use.  He loved her, and couldn't stand to feel this way about her.  "It's okay," he said with a sigh.

"No, it's not okay," she insisted.

Donovan turned toward her and kissed her deeply.  He broke the kiss after several moments.  "I love you, and I hope you change your mind."

She didn't think she'd ever change her mind, but she couldn't resist wrapping her arms around him, and returning his deep kiss.  What was she going to do?


	14. An Assignment And A Surprise

CHAPTER 14—AN ASSIGNMENT & A SURPRISE

It was barely six a.m., and Donovan had had less than three hours of sleep, but he was afraid he would sleep no more for a while.  Fully dressed, he glanced down at Remy.  The sound of his infernal cell phone hadn't awakened her.  He leaned over the bed and gazed down at her sleeping form.  Although they were less than thrilled with each other right now, he loved her and wanted to say goodbye.  In his line of business, he wasn't sure if he would return home.  He hated leaving her like this, but he had no choice.  When a suspect moved, _he_ moved, no questions asked.  

He placed his hand onto her arm and shook her gently.  "Remy, wake up."

She came awake slowly and she turned from her side to her back.  She looked up at him with foggy eyes.  He was decked out in all black.  "You're leaving," she asked sleepily.

He nodded.  "Yeah, we have to fly out in an hour.  I don't know when I'll be back."  He kissed her forehead briefly.  "I love you."  Not one to draw out goodbyes, he left her.  

*  *  *

Before Remy had become involved with the senator, she had had a good relationship with her parents.  However, after the hubbub, she had lost touch with him.  If the truth were known, she was actually ashamed of herself.  She had let her parents down one too many times, and she hadn't wanted to face them after Wengrod's death.  She was sure they had seen her face splattered all over every tabloid in the country.  Since moving in with Donovan, she had been tempted to call or visit them, but she didn't have the guts.  Not until now.  _Oh sure, I get in trouble, and I go running home to my mommy_, she thought ruefully.

She knocked on the door for the first time in her life.  She hoped someone would be home.  She hadn't even given a thought to that at all.  Her fears were transitory.  The door came open and Remy stood face-to-face with her mother.  Rachel Ellis stared at her daughter for what seemed like an eternity.  Each second that passed, Remy grew more nervous and upset.  Her stomach was horridly queasy, but she was sure it was due more to the baby than actual stress.  

"Please, Mother.  Do something.  Slam the door, spit in my face, scream, cry, or whatever.  Just _do_ something," Remy begged.

Without another moment of hesitation, Rachel drew her daughter into her arms and held her close.  Remy felt grateful tears streaming out of her eyes.  Her father, Joe, came to the door a few minutes later, and he joined in on the family hug.  

Joe and Rachel weren't cave people.  They had heard and/or seen all the stories about the senator and his 'sleazy' mistress.  They had also been bothered by dozens of tabloid reporters.  But they never reconciled that the woman the tabloids were talking about was 'their' Remy.  After several minutes, they broke their hug and went inside.  They noticed immediately that their daughter had brought a few bags with her.  She looked at the pile of bags and then focused her eyes on their faces.

"I'm going to have a baby, and I left the man I love," she said simply before bursting into tears.

*  *  *

During the entire flight, Donovan was distant, morose, and depressed.  The other members of the team knew there was something on his mind, but they didn't bother asking.  Their boss would never tell them.  Of course, he was preoccupied and upset.  He hadn't wanted to leave Remy while so many questions remained unanswered.  First and foremost, he was concerned.  He was afraid that she was set to leave him.  He didn't know why he felt so paranoid, but he had a nagging ache in the pit of his stomach that refused to go away.  He itched to call home, but he couldn't until the plane landed.

He didn't want to admit it, but his trust in her had begun to slide.  He had been with her long enough to know when she was about to run.  Of course, his leaving gave her the perfect opportunity.  Surely, she wouldn't.  Surely, she knew better.  She professed her love for him dozens of times.  Would she go that far?  _Would_ she leave?  His impatience began to grow like an out of control morning glory vine.  He needed to talk to her, to hear her voice, if only to convince himself that he wasn't losing his mind.

*  *  *

Remy could do nothing but sleep.  The instant she had unpacked her bags in her old childhood room, she was utterly exhausted.  It seemed she didn't have the energy to walk across the room.  She collapsed in bed and that was where she stayed until her younger sister came home for a short break from college.

Renata was six years younger than Remy and was almost out of school.  Although they had spoken frequently on the phone, she hadn't seen her older sister in almost a year.  Not knowing the circumstances surrounding her sister's sudden reappearance, she ran into the room and hurled her body onto the bed.  Remy groaned and tried to cover her head with the pillow.  Half asleep, she mumbled something about 'Frank.'  

"Who's Frank," Renata demanded while she jabbed her sister in the ribs.

Remy dodged away from the attack and uncovered her head.  She gazed stupidly at her baby sister.  "Renata?  What are you doing here?"

"Glad to see you, too, sis," she said tartly.  "I always come home during breaks.  Why didn't anyone tell me you were coming?"

Remy sat up and gazed at Renata.  Her younger sister was a carbon copy of her with the exception of her eyes.  Renata's were blue.  "No one was expecting me.  I kind of just… showed up."

"Who's Frank," she asked again.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment.  She had apparently been dreaming about him again.  How many dreams had she had?  Two?  Four?  Nine dozen?  "Nobody," she said with a sigh.

Renata jabbed Remy's ribs again.  "_Nobody_?  Do you think I'm going to buy that?  Come on, sis, spill it.  Who's Frank?"

"You're not going to let me sleep until I tell you, right?"

She smiled.  "Right.  Now spill it.  Who is he?  I'm dying to know."

Without realizing what she was doing, her hand slid absently down to her flat abdomen.  She had told her parents very few details about him, and now her baby sister demanded to know.  "Up until yesterday, he was the man I was living with, the one who wants to marry me."

"_Marry you_?  Then what the hell are you doing here?  Go get him, you dumbass."

Remy sighed.  "It's not as easy as that, Renata.  He only wanted to marry me because I'm pregnant."

Renata's blue eyes grew large.  "You're pregnant?  You mean, I'm going to be an aunt?"

She nodded.  "Looks that way."

She jabbed Remy's ribs again.  "You _are_ an idiot.  You're having his baby, but you don't want to marry him?"

Remy held onto her poked and prodded ribs.  "God, Ren, would you _stop_ that.  I don't want to marry him just because of this baby."

"Remy," she said softly, "does he love you?"

"Yes," she said, "he does."

"Then what the hell does it matter what his reasons are?"

She didn't want to talk about Frank anymore.  She simply wanted to hide forever in bed.  "It just does, Renata.  I see that no one gets it but me."

*  *  *

The plane began to make its slow descent toward the landing strip several hundred feet below.  Donovan was exhausted, but he hadn't been able to sleep at all.  His need to call home became an obsession.  In fact, his hand was already on his phone.  Their landing was rough, and it jarred the rest of the team awake.  Donovan didn't notice.  His mind was focused on Remy.  The instant the plane came to a halt, he whipped out his cell, and dialed home.  Remy's voice did not greet him.  The only thing he heard was his own voice over the answering machine.  He didn't leave a message.  Instead, he dialed his number again.  Getting the same response, he dialed again and again.  When that failed him, he called her work number and was told Remy had called in sick.  She had left him.  It was obvious now.  What had once been suspicion was now fact.  He couldn't even comprehend why she ran.  She had always been good at that.  Donovan shook off his hurt and devastation.  His mind needed to be clear and focused.  Once his job was done, he could then hunt down his lover.

*  *  *

_In her dream, she could see Donovan running through thick vegetation.  Was it a jungle?  The woods?  She couldn't tell.  His gun was drawn and it appeared he was after someone.  In her mind's eye, she closed her eyes tightly.  She was terrified that he would be shot again.  His mind was drifting, and he wasn't as alert as he normally was.  What in the world possessed him to take and keep such a hazardous job?  A long branch caught him, drawing a shallow scratch up the side of his cheek.  She winced in pain as if she were the one hurt.  Disturbed now, she saw as he drew closer and closer to the man he was after.  The man her lover was chasing turned around and she could finally see his face.  **NO**, she gasped.  It couldn't be.  Ed!  _

_"Tonight you die.  Tomorrow, I go after your whore and your bastard," he sneered at Donovan.  He raised his gun and fired three shots, each hitting Donovan in the chest._

"_NO_," Remy screamed out suddenly.

She sat straight up in bed and immediately began looking for Donovan.  It took several minutes for her to realize she was no longer with Donovan.  She had run home to her mommy and daddy.  Her body was soaked with sweat.  The dream had been so vivid, so real.  She had made a huge mistake leaving the way she did.  When would she _stop_ running from him?  She reasoned that by now, Donovan surely knew she was gone.

Remy crawled out of bed and crept out of her room.  The house was silent and dark.  She went into the kitchen and grabbed the phone.  She dialed the number and waited for the answering machine to kick on.  After she entered the code to retrieve the messages, tears began to fall out of her eyes.  There were none.  She had left him, and he had erased her away as if she were nothing more than chalk on a blackboard.  There was no turning back now.

*  *  *

Working on less than four hours sleep in three days, pure adrenaline was the only thing keeping Donovan going.  It had taken nearly two days to capture a particularly crafty drug smuggler.  Thankfully, the job had gotten done with little bloodshed.  He was once again on a commuter airplane, but this time, they were all going home.  

"Boss, what's going on," Jake stage-whispered beside him.  "You've been on Mars for the last three days."

Donovan shook his head.  He had never spoken five words about his personal life with any of them.  Of course, they all knew about his relationship with Remy, but they didn't know about the baby.  He wasn't sure he wanted to tell them, not until he and Remy were both on the same page.  "I'm fine," he insisted.  

His body language sent a clear message to Jake.  _Back off_.  That's what he did.

Back on familiar ground, Donovan wasted no time retrieving his vehicle and speeding away toward home.  The rest of the team stood back and watched the car round a corner before disappearing altogether.

"I'd give a thousand bucks if I could be one of his brain cells for five minutes," Cody said.  

Donovan parked his car sloppily in the garage and took the stairs two at a time to get up to his apartment.  He hadn't expected to find Remy inside.  Despite that fact, he was shocked anyway.  She had packed up most of her clothing, but left everything else behind.  He turned on a bedside lamp and his eyes identified an envelope resting against his pillow.  Impatiently, he tore it open.  One single sheet of paper drifted out.  The note was composed of only two words:  _I'm sorry_.


	15. The Chase Ends

CHAPTER 15—THE CHASE ENDS

After speaking with her sister, Remy was more confused and indecisive than when she first walked through the door.  Her choices seemed simple enough.  Go back to Donovan, accept his marriage proposal, marry him, have the baby, and live happily ever after.  However, her life was far from a fairy tale.  She wasn't exactly sure anymore why she had refused to marry him.  She had given him a reason, but was that _really_ why she had said no?  Deep down inside, could she say that and not lie to herself?  _Could she_?  _It's all happening too fast_, she thought.  Further, she had made her choice, Donovan had apparently made his, and nothing could be changed.

She found her mother and sister in the kitchen.  She had been in hiding from reality and today marked the first day she had dragged herself out of bed before noon.  However, if the nausea hadn't been so bad, she knew she wouldn't have gotten up today.  Renata and Rachel were at the kitchen table, chattering about a ski trip Renata was trying to finance with her part-time job.  Her younger sister wasn't aware, but her mother had told her that she and Joe were going to give her the money for the trip as an early birthday present.  Renata jabbered continuously as she was stirring what appeared to be cake batter.  They didn't immediately notice her as she stood lurking in the doorway.  

The thought of food didn't sit well with Remy, but she entered the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator.  There was juice, and she grabbed the pitcher and carried it with her to the counter.  She reached up to a cabinet, got a glass, and poured herself some OJ.  She noticed a loaf of bread to her left, and she stood contemplating whether or not she wanted toast.  Could she handle it?  Her stomach lurched at the thought, but she needed to eat.  She hadn't done much of that lately.  She turned around with the loaf of bread in her hand and noticed that her mother and sister were studying her curiously.

"You're up," Renata said, surprised.

"Yeah," she said as she dug a slice of bread out of the bag.  _Damn it, no heels_, she thought, irritated.  Renata had stolen them before she could.  "I can't stay in bed forever."  _You are so pathetic.  The only reason you are up at all is because of morning sickness_.  Putting on a brave front was her one of her best defense mechanisms, second only to running away.  She moved toward the toaster and her nostrils caught a whiff of something baking in the oven.  Another strong wave of nausea assaulted her.  Perhaps the toast could wait.  "What in the hell are you cooking in there," she asked clutching at her stomach.

"Somebody's got morning sickness," Renata teased in a singsong voice.  "Your favorite, Remy, Mom's special 'everything but the sink' lasagna."   

"Ugh," she moaned.  She didn't think she'd ever eat lasagna again.  She had to get away from the aroma, and get away from it soon.  She took her juice and carried it over to the kitchen table.  She hoped she was far enough away from the oven.  It wouldn't take much to set off another wave of nausea.  "I don't know if I'll be able to eat it, Mom."

Rachel smiled and then nodded as she busily greased a cake pan.  "You don't have to tell me, I've been pregnant before, you know."  She took the bowl from Renata's hands and poured the dark batter into it.  "You'll recover before you know it."  After she had scraped the last of the cake batter out of the bowl, she fixed her eyes on Remy's face.  "So, are you going to continue to hide out here or are you going to call this Frank character?  You can only hide six or seven more months before this baby is born, and I'm sure you know he won't stay away."

Remy sighed and took a tentative sip of juice.  She was surprised that her stomach allowed it access.  She hated getting lectured more than she hated throwing up.  Right now, both were happening to her at once.  "Mother, I intend to talk to Frank, but not just this second.  I couldn't speak to him now anyway, even if I wanted.  He is out saving the world."

"Saving the world," Renata said as she placed her chin on her hand.  "Wow.  What does this guy do?"

She sighed again and forced herself to take another sip of juice.  Why did they not understand that she didn't want to talk about Donovan?  What would it take, hammers to the head?  "A little of everything.  Look, I know you're all concerned, but I'd rather not rehash this.  I'll call him, I'll talk to him, but not now."

*  *  *

Donovan made his way in early.  He had to tie up a few loose ends before he left town.  He had had to fight to get the time off, but he only needed a couple of days.  However, he would stay as long as it took.  He wasn't coming back home without her.  Although he wasn't sure, he figured that Remy had gone home to her family.  She had nobody else.  He was distracted and oblivious to his surroundings.  He had no clear idea he was being watched until he turned and saw two curious faces watching him closely.

"Don't you have something better to do downstairs," Donovan asked as he faced Jake and Monica.

"Not really," Jake said.  "This is much more interesting."

Donovan shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  Patiently, he waited for them to leave, but it was obvious they weren't going anywhere.  They knew something was going on, and he wondered if today would be a good time to tell them.  Of course, it appeared that they weren't going to allow him to leave the room until he unlocked his heart and set it free.  He sighed heavily and leaned against the edge of his desk.  He had two choices.  He could either sit here all day, staring at them, fighting his way through the two of them, or he could tell them.  One way or another, he had to leave.

"I'm leaving town for only a few days, I hope," he began.

"Remy?"

He nodded, acknowledging Monica.  "You all know what a good runner she is," he said, almost bitterly.  The hurt nearly radiated off his words.  "She took off again.  We're having a baby, and I wanted to marry her, but she believes I was motivated to ask _only_ due to her pregnancy.  I need to get to her, to see her, to end this irrational fear of hers once and for all."

Jake and Monica exchanged a surprised look.  He had actually _willingly _given them personal information.  They couldn't believe it.

"So," he said sighing heavily.  "Do you think you can hold down the fort until I return?"

Jake nodded.  "Sure, Boss."

"Tell the others, would you?"

*  *  *

Remy hated it when her mother was right.  By the time the lasagna was laid out before her on the dining room table, her mouth was watering for it.  Her appetite came back full force and she helped herself to two servings.  Her parents and sister sat back and watched with a little smile.  She ignored their 'I told you so' looks and attacked the lasagna with gusto.  She hadn't been able to eat all day, and suddenly, she was starving.  She felt lots better, and hadn't given Frank Donovan a stray thought in over two hours.

After dinner, Renata and Rachel insisted that they could clean up without Remy's help.  She went out to the back deck and sat down.  Her eyes stared straight ahead out into the darkened back yard.  Even though Rachel and Joe's children were adults now, the playground equipment they had set up for them had not been taken down.  She never understood why they left it up.  It stood unmoving in the darkness, only a rusting hulking shadow.  She was desperately trying to keep her mind off Frank Donovan.  Of course, when she was alone, that was when thoughts of him tended to come to the surface.  She wanted what her parents had, wanted to grow old with someone.  Yet, she was so afraid to take the plunge, so afraid of screwing it up.  She didn't hear the doorbell from her vantage point on the deck.

"I'll get it," Renata yelled back toward the kitchen as she trotted toward the front door.  She swung open the door and stood face to face with a tall man draped in black.  His handsome face was calm and etched with strong, chiseled features.  He gazed at her with the loveliest eyes she had ever seen.  They were dark and intense.  "You have _got_ to be Frank," she spat when she found her voice.

Donovan gazed down at a young woman so like Remy, it hurt.  Remy had obviously told her family about him, had said _something_, because this woman knew instantly who he was.  He nodded.  "Yes, I'm Frank.  Is Remy here?"

A smile touched her lips.  "She's here, hiding in the back yard.  She's not expecting you, of course, but I think she'll be happy to see you all the same.  Oh, by the way, I'm Renata, the soon-to-be baby's aunt, and probably Remy's maid of honor."

Remy picked up her glass of juice [she couldn't get enough of the stuff] and sipped at tentatively, almost thoughtfully.  Tomorrow, she would call Donovan and tell him where she was.  Tomorrow would be her 'start over' day.  She began clicking off her list of things she had to do, two of which included getting a new job and finding her own place.  She wanted to stay close to her family, close to their unconditional love and support.  She would eventually have to face Donovan, but she had no idea how soon she would.  Her mind continued to work through her muddled thoughts.  She was preoccupied, and didn't hear the back door open or close.  She heard footsteps on the wooden deck.  They were too heavy to be her mother or her sister.  She didn't move.  It was probably her father checking up on her.  She was on the low end of her twenties and he still thought of her as his little girl.  Fathers were weird like that.

"What did you think you were doing, Remy?"

Shocked to hear Donovan's voice, she slowly stood up and turned to face him.  He had fixed a steady gaze on her and looked as pissed off as he sounded.  She didn't know how to feel, what to do, where to go, or how to react.  Her feet seemed planted permanently on the wooden deck.  She swallowed a lump in her throat and heard an audible click.  She wanted to flee, but there was nowhere to run.  After he had failed to leave a message for her, she thought he didn't care.  She hadn't expected him to show up, not like this.  _What have I done_?

"How did you find me," she asked.  Realizing how stupid her question was, she shook her head.  "Forget that, Frank, I don't want to know."

"How many times are you going to run from me?  How many times have you run thinking you could lose me?  Out of those times, how often have I found you?  Has any attempt been successful?  I think not.  Once and for all, _stop running_.  You'll never escape me, and if you do, I'll find you regardless of where you go."

She could sense he wanted to approach her, but he was hesitant.  "Frank, I think you're the one who should give up," she said softly.  "I'm not coming back with you and I'm not marrying you.  Nothing will change my mind.  We're two people who want different things out of life, and it just won't work."  She was a dreadful, terrible liar.

"Are we?  Are we _really_?  That's not what I hear in your voice, and it's certainly not what I see in your eyes."  He closed the distance between them in two swift steps.  He didn't touch her, but stood close enough to reach out in case she decided to make a run for it.  "I don't want to marry you because you're pregnant, I want to marry you because I love you," he repeated for what seemed like the billionth time.  "If I didn't genuinely love you, if I didn't want to marry you as a result of that love, would I keep chasing you?  Would I even _want_ to marry you?  Would I come here and beg you to come back?  _Would I_?  Before you say a word, I want you to think about what I just said."

She said nothing; she could only gaze at him helplessly.  He took hold of her left hand and slowly sank down to one knee, not taking his eyes off her.  She looked away from him for a moment and briefly covered her face with her right hand.  He couldn't do this to her, couldn't show her his tender, often romantic, side.  She could never resist it, and he knew this.  

"Frank-"

"Don't speak.  Just think and listen," he said softly.  "You know I love you, and I know you love me.  For the last time, Remy, will you marry me?"

She shook her head.  "I'm sorry, Frank, but the answer is…_yes_."  She smiled a little as he slowly brought himself to his feet.  

"You had me worried, Remy," he said with a grin as he drew her to him.

"I was always a sucker for surprise endings," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

*  *  *

Right around seven months later, Remy and Frank Donovan welcomed a daughter into their small family.


End file.
